You Love Me
by HomeschoolGirl
Summary: A post-Mockingjay fanfic that follows Peeta and Katniss as they struggle to rebuild their relationship.
1. Peeta Plants the Primroses

So, I literally just finished reading _The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, _and _Mockingjay_. Literally. I thought they were about vampires (?) but it turned out to be, well, amazing. I totally fell in love with Peeta (who needs Gale, anyway?) and thought he was the best. So, here's my attempt at fanfic, and hopefully it's not horrible. I've written Twilight fanfic before, but this is completely different. Thoughts are appreciated. Thanks!

-Homey :-)

**Disclaimer: **Peeta, Katniss, and _The Hunger Games_ are the work of the extremely brilliant Suzanne Collins. They're in no way mine. Maybe this plot's not even mine, since it's not the most original. This is just what happens after Mockingjay, told in my words.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

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><p>There's a time when you eventually admit to yourself that you're the only thing holding you back. That it's your fault you're not truly happy. That you might never be, but you could try. It's been that way since Prim died.<p>

The day Peeta shows up with primroses is the day things change. As I stand there, looking at him in the yard, our eyes challenge each other. My chin raises a fraction of an inch. I might look horrible, but I take pride in it. Which seems stupid.

"You're back," I say.

Our exchange is short. He reminds me I need to call Dr. Aurelius. I don't think I want much to do with him, but I pick up the phone the next time it rings.

I see him again the next day, standing outside his house, running his fingers through his hair. My breath comes out in quick spurts while I watch. I wonder if he might still feel it. The love that I still hold onto, if even a bit feebly.

I find myself walking down the stairs, out the door. A few more steps and I'm standing in front of him, hands clasped in front of me.

"I want to thank you for planting the primroses."

He narrows his eyes. "You should've helped."

Why does it cut me so deeply to know that his hostility toward me has returned? I swallow, struggling to find the right words, not wanting to upset him.

"Perhaps-" Too formal. "You're right, I should have. But I couldn't bring my self to. I'm still not…whole."

I see it. My sister. Going up in flames. The parachutes. The hope on the kids' faces as they strained their arms to take them. Gale's fault-

I stop there, not wanting to remember. It hurts too much. It makes life less livable. And it's always pretty horrible as is.

Peeta's eyes have taken on this strange, glassy look, and I wonder if the memories are coming back to him, too.

"You used to love me, real or not real?" He suddenly asks, whipping his head to look at me. For a second, I can't answer. My lips are slightly parted.

_Used_. That's the word that stalls me. Because it's still there. Even now, I have to pinch myself to keep from lunging at him. Rejection would be worse than not giving it a try at all. So I don't.

"Real," I whisper at last.

He nods, as if confirming something. "And I used to love you?"

"Yes."

He reaches forward to touch my cheek. The movement is so sudden, I stop breathing. His amazing blue eyes bore into mine.

"Let's give this another try. Our friendship. You and me, we can help each other out. Deal?"

For a second, I feel hope. It rises in my throat and clouds my vision. Yes, oh, yes. I'd want nothing more. But then I push the feeling away. The problem with hope is how fickle it is. One day it's there, the next it's not.

"We could try," I say at last. That seems to satisfy him.

"Good. I'll…talk to you later."

"Okay," I say, turning. It takes every ounce of strength I have to walk away from him. By the time I'm back in my bedroom, I collapse on the sheets, curl up into a ball, and will sleep to take me away into a happier world.

But as I close my eyes, I realize that's a mistake. I have nightmares, and they're so much worse when I'm not able to differentiate between what's real and not…kind of like the game Peeta plays with me.

As I slip into unconsciousness, I brace myself for the bloodbath to come.

* * *

><p>It's exactly one week later I'm out, watering the primroses, and see Haymitch with the geese. They walk behind him in a gaggle of feathers and quacks, and I motion for him to come talk to me. When he strides over, they follow.<p>

"What, Katniss?"

I point to the geese, which are working themselves into quite a frenzy. They must like to keep on the move.

"Oh, that," Haymitch says, scratching the back of his neck. There's something different about him. It takes me a second to realize his breath no longer reeks of alcohol.

"These are to keep me busy until the next train comes in," he says at last, and I understand. Of course. They're just a distraction.

"What are you going to do with them?"

He chuckles. "Set them free, keep them as pets, eat them. Who cares what I do? Just so long as they keep me from thinking about…it…then we're on pretty good terms."

I smile at him expectantly and he takes that as his cue to move on, throwing a halfhearted wave to me as he goes. Within a few seconds, he's made it to his house, and he ushers the geese in. They seem to understand. A moment later the door clicks behind him. I'm alone once more.

Then, just like that, Peeta is suddenly there. He carries a watering can. We don't speak as we water the primroses. Just him being beside me says enough.

"Sometimes," he says suddenly, and I stop, looking at him. I don't speak, waiting for him to go on.

"Sometimes my mind goes to a dark place, Katniss. A place where you're the enemy, and Snow is good…and it's so wrong. I'm getting better. I'm understanding what's right and wrong about the scenario. And when it happens, I try to conjure up good memories. Your face as you tick off all my favorite things, as you talk about Prim, when you smile. But they're so hard to find. Sometimes I think you being there when that happens would help pull me out, and other times I feel like I'd hurt you. And I know I still care when the thought of me putting my hands on you sickens me. That's what usually helps the most-thinking about what a monster I am. Knowing you'd never deserve my hands on you, not in a million years."

That feels like a double meaning to me. I blush just thinking about it. When did my mind get so dirty? Am I _that _starved for Peeta's affection?

I blush when I realize he's waiting for me to say something. I sigh shakily, forcing a smile, reaching out to lightly touch his arm.

"Whatever it takes, Peeta."

For a moment I fear I've said the wrong thing, because he just stares, but then I'm in his arms and I realize how much I've missed his embrace. Hesitantly, I begin to hug him back, and we just stand there.

Over across the lot, Haymitch's curtains twitch, and I know he's watching us.

"Peeta," I whisper. "I've missed you."

"You too, Katniss," he replies quickly, pressing his cheek to the top of my head. "You can't even imagine…but I need to be sure that I'm in control of myself. You matter, more than anything."

His words warm me, straight to my core. Peeta's always been good with words. Me…not so much.

So I don't say anything. I just hold onto him for dear life.

We begin to relax into a more normal routine. Haymitch keeps his geese, even when the train comes in, and he seems to grow fonder of them each day. Peeta begins baking again, even showing me how, but I'm horrible. I try to teach him how to hunt, but we've been through that before, and it's a mess. But fun.

"If you think about it," Peeta says, as we lay on our backs in the woods after a failed hunting trip, "our roles are kind of reversed. The woman's supposed to be good at baking and cooking, but that's me. And the man's duty is to hunt and feed his family."

I roll my eyes. "Gender stereotypes are extremely overrated."

He looks at me, folding his hand across his stomach solemnly. "I hear you sometimes, Katniss. At night. You scream."

I close my eyes, struggling to shut out the world. "Only when things are very bad."

He pauses before asking, "What do you dream about?"

I lick my lips. "They're not really…dreams. They're nightmares. Mostly about Prim, and the day she died. I see her, going up in flames. But it's even worse than real life, dreaming about it. Each time, I try to save her. But right before my hands touch her, she's always gone."

"Always?"

"Always."

He sighs. "I dream in memories. Things that used to happen. They're not shiny, not like the hallucinations. I see you in the cave, doctoring my leg. I see you lean forward to kiss me. I see you saying my name. I see a beach, and us, and we're lying on the beach. You lean forward and we kiss and, unlike the other times, we don't pull away. The dream always cuts off before anything else happens." He sighs, looking at me with longing. My heart is hammering in my chest.

"That last one…did it really happen?"

"Yes," I manage to croak out.

He leans forward, his lips quivering an inch from mine, before he seems to change his mind and roll away instead, facing away from me.

"Katniss, go away."

I'm so surprised by the abrupt change in his attitude I can't speak, can't move. I just lay there, watching as he trembles. Hallucinating, I'm sure.

"Peeta-"

"Katniss, just _go_. Get out of here. I don't want to see you."

Each word is a knife in my chest. I stand up, on the brink of tears, gathering my bows and backpack in one swift motion.

He doesn't speak as I stalk off, fists clenched at my sides. I almost wait for him to call out to me, hesitating on the edge of the woods. But he doesn't.


	2. Katniss Makes Peace with Prim

Wow, I've got to say, I was so surprised by all the comments and everyone who added You Love Me to their story alert subscription. I can't thank you enough! I plan on continuing this fanfic-encouragement/reviews are probably my greatest motivation, so all your comments helped. :) I currently have a good start on chapter three, which I plan on finishing sometime tonight. So, thank you! Again, thanks a bunch!

-Homey :D

(Warning: I can be very dramatic when writing about characters I love. This chapter is no exception. Hopefully Peeta's behavior is not taken as offensive. Who could be mad at Peeta, anyway?) ;)

**Disclaimer: **Ya see, there's a thing called amazing characters. And the ones used in this story all came from the mind of Suzanne Collins. They're not mine, even though I've grown to love them.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

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><p>I dream of Prim. I lay there, on the cobblestone streets, watching as the parachutes float down. She smiles wryly, seeing me. Smiles like she knows I've failed her.<p>

"Please, Prim," I beg, dragging myself forward. Trying to get closer. I leave a blood trail on the ground, but take no notice. If I'm dying, I don't care. I need her. But each heaving time I get closer, she takes a step back.

"Katniss," she whispers, as the bombs begin to go off. Her golden, silky hair blows beautifully around her face. Just thirteen. So young. Such life ahead of her. And me, seventeen, wasted away. Hollow. Yet she has purpose. It has to be me.

"Prim," I say again, weakly. "Run. For me."

"Katniss," she says again. But nothing else. Just, "Katniss."

And then she explodes, right before my eyes. I scream. I scream and scream and scream as she obliterates. Gone. In a second. It's like she has one of those piñatas with the strings that you pull, and then the whole thing collapses and candy rushes out. Except this time, when she pulls on the string for my heart, it explodes. Folds in on itself. And then it's gone. I stop bleeding. I stand. Perfectly unscathed.

I wake up screaming.

This goes on for several minutes. I can't seem to stop. My head is whipping from side to side and I pull on my hair as hard as I can, struggling to maintain reality. But that's the worst dream I've had, and it's so hard to ride the line between sanity and giving myself over. I can't hold it in much longer. I need to-

Peeta appears in my doorway. His blond hair is disheveled and he's wearing a white cotton t-shirt and pajama pants. He's been sleeping.

I'm gasping, trying to get air. He holds his arms out. I crawl to the end of the bed, whispering Prim's name over and over. I seem to stumble, but before I can hit the floor, he's there, holding me in his arms.

I'm still screaming as he rocks me back and forth. I must look crazy. But Peeta doesn't mind. He's dealt with crazy before-and he can deal with me. No, more than that. He's taking care of me, kissing my hair, whispering sweet words in my ear.

"It's okay, I'm here, it's okay," he says over and over again.

But no, it's not okay.

Eventually I calm myself down, staying in his arms. I'm too embarrassed to look at him or even speak.

"Would you like me to stay with you?" He asks at last.

I nod.

We don't talk as he gently lays me down, arranging my hair around the pillow. He pulls my sheet up to my chin. He climbs under, too, and pulls me against his chest. I don't do anything but breathe. He hasn't held me like this since…since I can't remember. It makes me feel good.

"I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you, Katniss," he says. "I'm so sorry I've been selfish. I'm just…dealing with my own issues. But you're not one of them, I promise."

What a liar. I'm the biggest issue, of course. The reason he hasn't kissed me-really kissed me-for so long. Why he hasn't held me like this.

"Peeta," I say. "Are you awake?"

"Mmm…" he answers groggily.

I prop my head up on my elbow, looking into his eyes.

"Thank you."

He leans forward, gently running a hand down my face. I tremble under his touch. He sees this and pulls away. But he's still here. He won't leave.

I snuggle back into the warmth of his arms, finally at peace.

* * *

><p>Not not after that, there's a night when it happens. When we're laying there, not really talking about anything, and he tenses up beside me.<p>

I know instantly he's hallucinating. Normally, he'd tell me to leave, but since he doesn't I stay. I run my fingers down his face, trying to make him see sense. His eyes are somewhere far away as they dance wildly around the room.

"Peeta," I say calmly, rising to my knees. I place my hands on either side of his perfect face. I let my fingers linger over his lips. "Peeta, I'm here."

He reaches forward, and for a moment I think he's going to hug me, but he draws his hand back at the last second and instead slaps me squarely across the face. The breath rushes out of my lungs and I crumple into a heap, laying on my back. He uses this to his advantage, sitting up, winding his fingers around my throat.

He calls me filthy names while I struggle to breathe. _Mutt_, _Worthless, Murderer_. The tears are running down my face.

"Please," I croak as his grip tightens. It's like he's slowly squeezing the life out of me. I could fight him, but something stops me. Maybe it's the expression in his eyes. I know if I shove him away, it'll only get worse.

"Please," I beg again, barely able to breathe.

The glaze is gone, then, and his normal eyes are there. It's takes a second for the situation to register in his mind. When it does, he lets go, running as fast as he can to stand across the room. My head swims for a moment before I am able to breathe.

I sit up to find him staring at me.

"Oh, god, Katniss," he pants, holding his wrists to his chest. "I'm…"

He looks horrified. I feel horrified.

I begin to cry, against my better judgment. "How…could…you…" My throat aches so much, I barely manage to croak the words.

He begins to cry too, silently. "I don't know. I lost it. Please, Katniss, don't leave me. I'm so…so…." But he can't get his words out, either.

Leave him? That's the only phrase that sticks. Why would I leave him?

I get to my feet, slowly treading across the room. He looks at me warily, clutching his wrists tighter.

"Please," I beg, going to stand directly in front of him. "Peeta, kiss me."

His eyes widen in disbelief. He stares.

"Kiss you?"

I nod. "Please."

He shakes his head. "Katniss, I can't. Not after what I've just done."

His rejection is crushing. I have to hold back a sob; I don't want to be weak. But he doesn't want me. I can't imagine anything hurts worse.

I turn and barrel down the stairs, stopping in front of the fireplace. I curl up beside the lifeless hearth, wishing there was some sort of fire inside. Instead I press my cheek against the cool wood of the floor, shivering.

I hear him come down a few minutes later. I don't speak as he comes and sits beside me, running a warm hand through my hair.

"Katniss, I'm so sorry. I'll never forgive myself."

I wait a long time before I speak.

"Do you know what hurt the most, Peeta?" He doesn't answer, and I take that as my cue to continue. "Not when you choked me, or slapped me…it was when you said you wouldn't even _kiss_ me."

He lips are very suddenly on my throat, making a trail to my jaw, across my cheekbones, down my nose.

I wasn't expecting this reaction. Not as his arms snake around me, pulling me close, or as he falls to the ground with me on top of him. Not as he kisses anywhere he can reach-but not my lips.

"Peeta," I say breathlessly, straining to think past his hands as they massage soothing circles into my back. "You don't have to do this."

"Do what?" He asks innocently, pulling back to look at me. "I thought you wanted this, Katniss." When I look at him, his eyes are _not_ his. They're clouded over, mean, unseeing.

I make a sound of disgust in my throat and shove him away. We both fall on our backs, breathing heavily.

"I don't even know you anymore, Peeta."

He stops breathing for an infinite moment before rising to his feet, stalking off toward the front door. I flinch as it slams behind him.

I always handle things beautifully, don't I? Heck, I make Haymitch look like a saint. And picturing Haymitch as a saint is pretty disturbing.

* * *

><p>Days pass without word from Peeta. My bed feels empty without him to fill it up. We used to sleep together, what feels like lifetimes ago, on the train to the Quarter Quell. I had nightmares then, too.<p>

Even thinking of the Games stirs up unwelcome memories. Rue, Finnick, Wiress, Mags, Johanna-who I haven't seen since I came back to 12-, Cato, Clove…most of whom are dead. I feel sick just thinking about it.

I remember a time when I could brush the deaths off my back easily. Well, it's never easy, but I used to be able to think about other things. Now I feel like each person who I've ever hurt, who I've ever seen die, has personally taken a knife and carved a piece out of me. There's so many that I can't feel anything except a resounding hollowness. Peeta helped with that a little. But he's not here now, so.

Plutarch, who I am not currently fond of, calls me one day asking about some singing show he wants to start-starring me, of course. After a few choice words, some of which I'm sure to regret later on, I hang up the phone. And I realize I haven't talked to my mother in weeks.

I reach for the phone, trying not to think about what I'm doing, dialing in her new number. The phone rings three times before she answers.

"Hello?"

I swallow. "Mom? Hi, it's Katniss."

"Katniss!" She exclaims, obviously surprised. "Oh, it's wonderful to hear from you. How are you? Haymitch and Peeta?"

"I'm okay, and so is Haymitch," I say, painfully ignoring her last question.

If it throws her, she doesn't show it.

"Just okay?"

I nod, swallow, struggle to breathe. "I've been thinking a lot about Pri-uh-Rue, lately. I know it's been awhile, but it still hurts."

"Of course it does, sweetie, of course it does."

Terms of endearment sound strange when she directs them at me and I realize I want nothing more to get off the phone.

"Look, I should go."

"Of course," she says hurriedly. "I love you. Please, call me."

I hang up wordlessly.

When I look up, Peeta is standing in the doorway. He holds his arms out to me, which I happily rush into. We hold each other for a long time, in our own worlds.

"Katniss, I'm sorry," he says at last. "Not just about what I did to you, but about the kiss. You're right, that _wasn't_ me. I was being a jerk."

I force a smile, looking up at him. "Peeta, please…if you're having problems, come talk to me. You're the one who agreed we help each other out."

He grins. "So I did."

"So you did."

* * *

><p>The next train that comes to 12 not only brings Haymitch's monthly supply of liquor, but a good bakers' dozen of people. I greet them all by name, recognizing them as old District 12 citizens. The survivors-come home at last.<p>

People begin to build. Wood is hammered, bricks are stacked, and grass is planted. Winter hesitantly fades into spring.

The first day one of our primroses bloom, I run screaming into the house for Peeta. His initial reaction is alarm, because who wouldn't be frightened by a mentally unbalanced girl streaking through the house yelling about flowers? He's no exception. I manage to drag him out of the house, blabbering on and on about how beautiful the flower is and how delicate. When he sees it, he falls to his knees beside it, and I am quick to follow. We stare and stare.

Hesitantly, I reach forward and sniff it. It's a mixture of dew and nectar and happiness. It's everything sweet. It's everything Prim was.

"Thank you," I whisper, choked up but too happy to care.

Peeta kisses my forehead. "You're more than welcome."

Even though I want to, I refrain from picking the flower. But over the course of the next few days, I can't stop looking at it. I smell it and touch the petals, fragile like butterfly rings. But a butterfly's beauty pales in comparison to that of the primrose.

Then one day it begins to wilt. Just out of nowhere. I do everything I can to keep it alive. I water it. I feed it special plant food. I sit by it for hours, singing songs. The mockingjays sing right back to me.

But I fail. I wake up on a blissfully warm morning to find it dead. Like Prim. I cry for a little while before determinedly picking it, digging a small grave by the side of the house, and planting it.

I buried it like I never got to bury Prim. I sang songs to it like I never sang to her. And I know; this is my way of saying goodbye. This is my way of finally letting go.


	3. The Capitol and Johanna Mason

I know, I know. I update like a madwoman. :P I'm just totally focused on this story, so writing has come easy today. My tally for today: 7,355. I think I just broke my own record. :D But no more updates today, I promise! Tomorrow...is another story.

-Homey

**Disclaimer:** Peeta, Katniss, Haymitch, Johanna, Paylor, The Capitol...none of them are mine. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

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><p>Plutarch summons us to the capitol. Us, meaning Peeta and I. I'm terribly afraid of what awaits of there, but he assures me it'll be okay with his words and a kiss atop my nose. The worst part of it is that we weren't told what exactly <em>is<em> going on-so basically anything could await us. Even though I've been told a thousand times over that I'm not in trouble for killing Coin (our former president) I can't be sure.

The train there is not as nice as the ones we used to go on, when we went to the Games. I find myself missing Effie Trinket, which is strange and yet makes sense. Peeta and I, we share a bed at night, and the nightmares are worse. But I haven't dreamed about Prim in ages, for which I'm glad.

The first person to greet us upon stepping off the train is-surprisingly enough-Johanna Mason. She squeezes me tight, showcasing a rare display of affection. That is all shattered the second she pulls away to look at me.

"Wow, Katniss. You look terrible. Nice hair."

I self-consciously touch my brown locks, which have grown in unevenly since they were burned to a crisp during the attack on the capitol. Octavia, Flavius, and Venia fixed if for me when I made my last public appearance, but I've let it go since. I feel slightly bad for Peeta, who has to see me looking like this every day.

"I think it suits her," he retorts, and my heart swells with love for him.

Johanna narrows her eyes. "Sure, loverboy. You'll just say whatever you can to get lucky later on, won't you?" She snarls a horrible laugh, and I sigh. We walk behind her as she leads us to a limo, where we all climb in.

"So," she says, facing us. "If you want any warning for what's about to happen, I hardly know myself. They just had me come up yesterday and stuck me as babysitter for you two. Not like you need it." Her eyes brighten, and she smiles at Peeta. "Heck, you guys will have babies yourself before long. You knocked her up yet, Peeta?"

He looks at me with a mix of amusement and concern, trying to see if the comment offended me. I just give a slight shake of my head.

In truth, I never want children. The idea frightens me to no end. What if I had a baby, only to have it harshly taken from the world? No, as long as my name is Katniss Everdeen, I will never have a son or daughter.

My attention is diverted as we pull into some kind of parking garage. Johanna makes a guttural, unladylike sound as she stands from the car, complaining about a pain in her head. A part of her that is still affected by Snow's shock treatments.

I wrap my arms around myself for protection as we walk forward, enter a door, and shoot up a few hundred stories in an elevator. When we exit, we're in a nondescript, poorly furnished hallway and lead right into a room of similar style.

There's a long, ornate glass table in the far end of the large room, though, which somehow detracts from the already unwelcoming place. I mean, c'mon, everyone knows how bad it is to mix velvet drapes, fuchsia carpet, and thousand-dollar glass tables.

Johanna takes a seat at the end, and I sit beside her, with Peeta on my left. He holds my hand, tracing patterns on it with his thumb. Still, my heart pounds.

The door opens, and Annie, Beetee, and Enobaria enter. I wave to my sort-of old friends. They embrace me and take their seats.

It comes dawning on me before I can even think. This scene is reminiscent of a few months ago, when we all sat around a table with Coin, voting on holding a hunger games with previous capitol officials' children and grandchildren. Punishment for them.

If I remember correctly, I voted yes. This thought sickens me. I look to my left and see the same realization dawning on Peeta.

The door opens once more to reveal Paylor and Plutarch. They sit down, offering us unsteady smiles, always down-to-business.

"Look, I'm sure you all have figured it out by now," Paylor begins. "You're not stupid. We're here to discuss the next and final Hunger Games, which will feature direct capitol official descendants. Which means that, the people who had power and made the decisions with Snow, their children and grandchildren will be entered."

Oh, God. What was I thinking?

"Haymitch Abernathy declined coming, even though he originally voted yes. Since he's our eldest remaining victor, we decided to honor his change of mind."

I rise to my full height on shaky feet. "Paylor, you can't do this. It was Coin's idea, but she's dead-"

Paylor arches a perfectly manicured eyebrow at me. "And you killed her, Katniss, if you remember. No matter what, people are still seeking vengeance against the capitol."

"But isn't that enough?" I demand frantically. "Snow is dead! Now you're president, and things have changed."

Johanna nudges me roughly with the toe of her boot. "Mockingjay, it seems like you have the most reason to want this to happen, what with your sister being dead. Think about it. Isn't it justice?"

I shake my head. "No, because these children didn't ask to be born into the family that they did. It just kind of…happened. We can not hold them responsible for what their parents and grandparents did to us."

Paylor shrugs. "Fine. We'll re-vote. All in favor?"

Enobaria and Johanna raise their hands. But that's it. Just two.

"Vote's been decided," Paylor says, standing. "There will be no Hunger Games. You all are dismissed, welcome to go home. Thanks for being here."

I breathe a little sigh of relief. No one else will die because of me. And really, that couldn't make me happier. I dance back out to the limo, which promptly takes Peeta and I right back to the train station. In a few days, we'll be home.

"So," he says as we settle into our seats. "What changed your mind?"

I sigh, stare straight ahead. "Do you want the truth, or a lie?"

He seems to consider this, honestly consider it, before he answers.

"The truth."

I shrug, looking at him. "I don't want anyone to hurt anymore. Not even the people who are responsible for Prim's death. For Rue's death. Let someone else do away with them and carry that burden. But I'm done having blood on my hands."

Peeta stares at me in awe for a moment.

"Katniss…you know you're amazing, right?"

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Sure, sure."

* * *

><p>Within a few days, we are back in District 12, greeted by Haymitch and his geese in all their glory. Peeta and I make small talk with him for a few minutes, then head back toward the house to start dinner.<p>

The days fly by, and with each passing minute I find that my old Peeta is slowly but surely resurfacing. He tells jokes; he laughs; he looks after me. Just like he used to, when he protected me in the Games, and even when we were far away from each other.

We find ourselves discussing our families, or rather, Peeta talks about his. The pain from Prim's death is still raw inside me, though I'm healing.

"I had two brothers, Steven and Ethel," he says one evening as he paints. I sit, watching him, sipping at a cup of tea in my hands.

"Ethel?" I say incredulously, struggling not to laugh.

He smiles at me over his shoulder. "My mother had preconceived notions about what gender her child would be before she had it. Apparently, the names stuck, whether it was a boy or a girl. Ethel made us call him Eth, since that was slightly more bearable."

I giggle before I can stop myself, and Peeta laughs with me. When I'm in control of myself, I ask my next question.

"What was your mother like, Peeta? Like, really, really like?"

He pauses before answering. "I could say she was the most wonderful mother in the world and that she loved us. But…" He shrugs helplessly. "She was the worst listener ever. She acted and then listened later. She was quick to hit people, even my father. She hated baking, but did it for a living. She hated boys, but had three of them. She hated fat people, although she was fat herself. And she never, ever, forgave someone for a wrongdoing." He takes a deep breathe while I stare, openmouthed. "Her only redeeming quality was the fact that she knew how horrible she was. And this is possibly the worst thing about her: She knew it, and she never did _anything_ to change."

"My dad," I find myself saying, struggling to speak. "He sang beautifully. He was smart and kind. He always knew the right thing to say."

Peeta looks at me. "Like Prim."

I nod stiffly. "Just like Prim."

Peeta reaches for me, and I crawl gratefully into his lap.

"When did we get like this, Peeta?" I ask after an infinite moment, clinging to the front of his shirt. "When did we get so little?"

"After the Games," he clarifies. "It changes a person."

I raise my head slightly, looking into his eyes. "If you could do it all again, go back in time knowing what would happen, would you?"

He leans forward and presses his lips to mine. It's a lingering kiss, layered with different feelings. Sadness, hope, happiness, anger…

"Yes," he says after we pull apart. "A thousand times, yes."

I nod, kissing him again. Once, twice…

"But you wouldn't," he says in between kisses.

I freeze, glaring at him. "Who says so?"

His arms wind around me, pulling me close. "I say so. I know you, Katniss, and you would forget about it all if it meant saving Prim, and stopping the nightmares."

Even as he says it, I know it's true. I want to defend myself, say that I'm stronger than that and he means the world to me. But I can't.

"I'm sorry, Peeta," I say, resting my cheek against his. "I'm so sorry I can't say yes. But, if it means anything, you're my life _now_. And since I can't go back and change it, you're everything I will ever need."

He nods. Always understanding. Always warm. Always Peeta.

"I don't deserve you," I whisper.

He kisses me, looks into my eyes, kisses me again.

"Ditto," he says.


	4. Peeta Lists Five Things About Katniss

Hello!

This is kind of an important chapter. :P But it's not the last one, not my any means, so...I must say, I like writing about the old Peeta. He's awesome! The one that Suzanne Collins created in _Mockingjay_ was great but I missed him. xD Oh, and guess whhhhhaaaaattt? 12 days until The Hunger Games movie comes out! I am SO going to see it. How about you guys? What scene are you most excited about seeing? I can't wait to see the actual Games, since in the trailers, they don't show much of them.

Thanks to everyone who is reading this. I love feedback, so feel free to comment! :)

-Homey

**Disclaimer: **Peeta, no matter how much I love him, does not belong to me. Nor does Katniss. But they DO, however, belong together! At least, that's what Suzanne Collins intended...since they're hers.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>We're laying in bed the night he asks about the scars.<p>

I turn to look at him, narrowing my eyes.

"Why do you want to see?" I demand.

He purses his lips. "Just because."

I roll my eyes and hike up my shirt until my stomach is exposed. The pale moonlight throws depth into the deep lines etched in my torso, making it look more ravaged and angry than it actually is.

Peeta places his hand on my stomach, gently running his fingers over every red, puckered line. They're ugly. My worse feature. They're absolutely everywhere. And yet, I have no hesitations when it comes to letting him see. Does that mean I love him?

"I have them too," he murmurs at last, breaking the silence.

I tug my shirt back down before he can kiss my stomach or do some equally embarrassing thing, turning my back to him.

"They're beautiful, Katniss," he says at last, sensing the reason for my distance.

I snort. "No they're not-they're the worst thing about me."

"Well," he says firmly, rolling me back over gently, "I think they're the most beautiful, amazing, gorgeous part of you."

I'm shaking my head before he's even finished. "I'm not pretty anymore, Peeta. Not like I once was."

He groans in exasperation. "How come you don't see what I see?"

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Maybe because I'm not biased."

He presses his lips together in a firm line, half-glaring half-smiling at me. "Fine."

"Fine? That's it?"

"If you don't want to hear _why_ you're beautiful to me, fine."

He rolls over, and now I'm intrigued. I timidly touch his arm, fully aware that he's teasing me and this is all to get me to fall for his charade. Oh, well.

"Name five reasons I'm beautiful," I challenge, sure he can't conjure up five good-and I mean really good-things.

He grins, facing me. "That's all I get?"

I roll my eyes. "You have five minutes."

He doesn't even stop to think before launching into avid descriptions.

"Number five, your smile. Your lips are perfect as they stretch over your teeth. It's so natural the way the corners of your mouth turn up when you see or hear something that makes you happy. Your smile is breathtaking, and yet I don't get to see it nearly enough. Which means I have to try extra hard to make you happy."

I find myself smiling, which is rather ironic, but rewarding all the same. "Fine, but that's just _one_. Go on."

"Four, your eyes. They are an impossible shade of grey, one I never even knew existed until I met you. They're mesmerizing. I could stare into them all hours of the day. And when they cry, I just…break. But you close them too often, so I always try to keep them open. They're the epitome of perfection."

I blink suggestively at him and he laughs.

"Three, your hands-"

"My _hands_?" I exclaim as he grabs them, holding them to his chest. My fingers squirm under his but I give up after a minute, forcing myself to relax.

"Yes, your hands. You have these beautiful, slender fingers. When they touch me, they leave fire everywhere. I guess it's fitting that you're called the girl on fire. But still, they can do so many things. Shoot a bow effortlessly, wrap a dying girl in flowers, plant primroses, write notes…" And with that, he kisses each of my fingertips.

I'm growing more and more anxious by the second, wondering what the last two will be. Do I even have anything good left?

"Two, your voice," he quietly. "You sing beautifully. The mockingjays stop to listen to you. And when you say my _name_…" He stops to close his eyes. "Well, I don't think life could get any better."

My heart is pounding in my chest, anticipating. I'm not even paying attention to the fact that he has almost successfully conjured up five things.

"And one, the thing I love about you most, are your scars. All the ones from the games, from the Capitol, from everything you've ever done." He takes my hand and, to my utter horror, kisses one of the faded, pink lines etched on them.

Wordlessly, he continues this practice, kissing up my arm, across my neck, over every inch of my face. Each place his lips land is a sign of my battles. His breath, caressing my skin gently, leaves new scars behind. Ones that don't exist anywhere but in my heart. And that's okay.

I don't have scars on my lips but he ends up kissing those anyway. Somehow our arms find each other and we scoot closer, until we are pressed close together. Eagerly, with newfound enthusiasm, Peeta takes my face in his hand, dropping kisses on my lips frantically. I return them as often as I can, but the kisses are so short and he's holding my head down so it's practically impossible.

And I wonder, as this continues, why I ever even _considered_ Gale. Be it fate or some other unnatural cause of the universe, Peeta and I both ended up at those Games. We both pretended to be in love. But it was a dangerous game we played, because it ended up being real. No, more than real. It became everything.

I need Peeta. Need him like air, and love, and light. He's all those things for me, plus some. He knows me like no one else. Not like Gale, or mom, or Prim. They just had little bits and pieces of me. My friendship with Gale, my care for my mother, my devotion to Prim. Peeta has it all. Friendship, care, devotion, _and_ love. Things I'll never be able to give to anyone else as long as I live.

And then there it is. The hunger. The one I felt that night on the beach, a time that seems thousands of years ago. And yet even thinking about it makes it fresh. So, I don't stop myself, or put any barriers up. We just…are.

He kisses me, I kiss him back. Things happen. Time passes. And when it's over, completely and utterly over, I'm happy.

I smile, look into his eyes, wind my fingers through his, sing, and proudly display my scars. All the things about me, all his favorite things, right here and now.

So, after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?"

I tell him, "Real."

* * *

><p>Time passes. Spring turns into summer, summer turns into fall, and back into winter again. Peeta and I, we're different. We don't do what we did the night he said his favorite things about me-not yet, but we get close. We learn everything there is to know about each other. We talk about our fears, and hopes, and dreams. Haymitch teases us relentlessly. Says I'm just a bird who likes Peeta because he tosses me bread. Ha-ha, Haymitch. So clever. Because Peeta's a baker and I'm the mockingjay. Good one.<p>

The old Peeta is completely back. Occasionally, he has his moments. But now they're usually in nightmares, and we both help each other out when it comes to those.

And then there's Buttercup, Prim's devil of a cat. He returned shortly after Prim died and disappeared shortly thereafter, so I haven't seen much of him. But one morning there he is, on my doorstep. He's skinnier than he used to be, but still pretty fat, and stupid as ever.

I let him in and growl an unfriendly hello. He hisses his reply.

We end up sitting on opposite sides of the room, glaring at each other. He hisses and I hiss right back, which seems to throw him.

When Peeta comes home from working at the bakery and sees us two rivals, glowering at each other, he bursts into fits of sporadic laughter that shake his muscular frame. I press my lips together in a firm line, trying to keep from laughing myself, but it is nearly impossible.

"He just showed up!" I exclaim with a giggle. "On our doorstep."

Peeta stops, raises his eyebrows, and I've realized what I said.

Our. _Oops_.

"You know, Katniss," he says, suddenly serious. He goes over to place his hands on my waist, looking me in the eyes. "We're practically husband and wife as it is."

I begrudgingly nod my agreement. "Yeah, so?"

"So…I was thinking…" Slowly, he sinks down on one knee. "Look, I know it's a long shot, but I made this…" He reaches into his pocket, furrowing his eyebrows. A second later he places a small hunk of something in my hand.

It's some sort of metal, that's easy to tell. And unlike other engagement rings it has no showy diamond on it, mocking the world. Instead, it is covered in the most delicate of paintings I have ever seen. I instantly recognize the style as Peeta's. The pictures are so intricate, so tiny, I can hardly see them. I squint and lean closer, then realize. It's moments. With Peeta and me. A timeline.

There we are, standing on the stage with Effie Trinket. Shift slightly to the right. There is my face on the screen as he told the world he "loved" me, as a pretense, when actually he did. Move again. There we are as we kiss in the cave. My first _real, real_ kiss. Shift. There we are, laying side by side, on our way to the Quarter Quell. Again. On the beach. Move it. The look on my face when I told him all his favorite things-_You're a painter. You're a baker. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces_-slightly to the right shows our first "real" kiss after the hallucinations were over. Although it looks kind of forced to me. Probably was. Move again. There we are, planting primroses. Holding hands. Crying. Breathing. Living. Loving. He paints the night he asked me if I loved him, my face when I answer. And then, the last picture of all. Me, throwing my arms around him after he asks for my hand, saying yes.

"Peeta…" I breathe, but can't speak. He's painted the best parts of my life on this tiny, copper band. And they're all with him. I slip it on.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me to my feet. We dance and laugh and sing and he kisses me several times. And I think of all the times I doubted him.

I realize it was me I wasn't sure about.


	5. They Fight And An Unexpected Visitor

Hello! :)

Here's another chapter. So yay!

Hunger Games in...11 days? I'm gonna try to update every day until it's here.

Reviews are appreciated.

-Homey :D

**Disclaimer: **Argh, I wish Peeta and Katniss were mine, but they aren't. They came from the extremely creative and talented Suzanne Collins. All the characters and settings are hers.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>I try to be nicer to Peeta after the engagement, really, I do. It's just hard, especially when he moves in. We tend to get on each other's nerves.<p>

Peeta bakes in the kitchen, most every day, which drives me crazy. By the end of the first week of our living together, I decide I never want another cookie again. After an argument between us that makes the windows rattle, it's settled that he will do all of his baking at his old house, in _that_ kitchen.

And then there are the nightmares and the hallucinations. They seem to come back over both of us with a newfound fervor. I dream of Prim every night, sometimes if I take a nap during the day. Peeta comes close to hurting me twice, but I always manage to run from the room before he can do anything.

I can't help wonder why my happiness is always tinged with horror.

We're sitting in the kitchen and I'm drawing one evening when Peeta looks at me and says, "I really hate you."

I shake my head. "No, Peeta, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

For some reason, this really upsets me. I've learned by now the best way to deal with Peeta's hallucinations is to either leave the room or let it go. But I can't seem to do either. I'm furious.

I stand up and my chair legs screech across the tile.

"No. You don't," I say.

He glares at me and stands up. "Yes, I do. I hate you so much."

I stride up and shove my hand in his face, pointing to the ring. "Is that why you're engaged to me, Peeta? Are you going to marry someone you hate?"

He grabs my shoulders, shoving me back until I'm up against the wall. He moves so his face is an inch from mine.

"You are a _liar_. I would never ask someone like you to marry me."

I struggle to get away from him. "Let me go!"

"No!" He shakes his head. "Snow says I have to kill you. He says you're evil and you're going to hurt my family."

I grab his fingers which are digging into my arm. "Your family is dead."

"Did you kill them?"

I close my eyes, shaking my head. "No. The capitol did. _Snow_ did."

He legs go of me and steps back. "I love you, real or not real?"

"Real."

He sinks into the kitchen chair and puts his head in his hands. A long minute passes before he looks up. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I didn't mean to lose it. It just comes on so suddenly."

I don't make a move to comfort him, not like I usually would. "I don't see how this is going to work, Peeta. I love you, but…" I hold my hands up helplessly. "We're going to have to try harder to make this marriage work..."

He rolls his eyes. "Katniss, we're fine. I'm fine."

I cross my arms, glaring at him. "You just tried to kill me for the third time this week, Peeta. That's not okay."

He flinches, then recovers. "Well, you're still screaming about your dead sister all the time, and that happened months ago."

My breath rushes out in a _woosh_. I can't believe he'd say that.

"You know what Peeta?" I ask, my voice dangerously calm. "You can keep your stupid ring. I'm sleeping at Haymitch's tonight."

I pull the ring off and throw it across the room. It bounces off a kitchen cabinet and lands on the floor. Before Peeta can say anything, I turn on my heel and stomp outside, where it's raining. Keeping my head low, I dash across the yard down to Haymitch's humble abode.

I enter without knocking. He glares at me from his overstuffed couch where he's sitting, downing a bottle of some kind of strong liquor. I look at it, look at him, and down to his lap where a goose is sitting happily.

"Let me have some of that," I demand, reaching forward and grabbing the bottle. My eyes burn as I chug it, and my throat stings. I hand it back to him, coughing and sputtering. Haymitch just watches, an amused smile on his face.

"I recommend you not do that again, Katniss. This is my last bottle."

I sink into the couch beside him, sighing. Already, I feel drowsy. "Peeta and I got into a fight."

"You don't say?" He asks with his usual sarcastic humor.

I glare at him. "Could you _try_ to be sympathetic?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "No-can-do. I felt sorry for you when you were out fighting for your life, when Prim died, when your name got called at the reaping, but not when you and lover-boy get into some kind of fight."

I kick his shin. He responds with a very satisfying grunt.

"Can I sleep here tonight?" I ask after another silence.

He looks at me, really looks at me, and his eyes soften.

"There's something more, isn't there, Katniss?"

I wipe my eyes before a tear can fall. "He said…stuff about Prim."

Haymitch pats my back, a little too roughly for comfort, but still, it's a gesture of love and any kind of love from Haymitch is appreciated.

"It'll be okay, Katniss," he says gruffly. "You'll work it out."

"Thanks Haymitch," I murmur, leaning against him. He stiffens and then, very hesitantly, wraps his arm around my shoulders.

"You know you and Peeta are kind of like my kids, right?"

I roll my eyes. "I thought we were more like pets."

"Well, okay, yes. Never wanted kids anyway. But pets-they keep good company. Don't whine too much, and all you gotta do is feed 'em and love 'em."

"And keep them alive," I whisper.

"Which I did."

"Which you did."

I don't how long we stay like that, but eventually Haymitch gets up and I lie down and he covers me with a blanket. I hear him go shuffling up the stairs, that horrid goose of his quacking after him.

I stay with Haymitch for a few days, until I've calmed down some and assure myself I can probably see Peeta without wanting to punch him in the face.

When I walk in, he's sitting at the kitchen table, kind of like I left him. For a moment I wonder if he's moved at all. But no, he's changed clothes and his hair is slicked back from showering.

Our arms kind of find each other and he just holds me.

I don't realize I'm crying until I speak.

"Can I have my ring back?"

He reaches into his pocket and slips it on my finger with a trembling hand. I look at it, frowning. A few pieces of paint have chipped off from where I threw it. All his hard work…reduced to nothing after I acted on rage.

"Oh, Peeta. I'm so sorry."

He silences my worry with a kiss. "It's okay. I'll fix it for you. I would have already except I didn't know if you'd…want it back."

When our eyes meet, I quickly look away. Now I remember why I was mad.

"Katniss, I…don't know what to say," he mutters, touching my cheek gently. "I should never have said that about Prim."

I swallow. "Fine."

"Do you forgive me, then?"

I shrug lightly. "To be honest, Peeta, I don't know. Bringing my sister into this-especially since she's d-" I stop myself, realizing I've never said the word. _Dead_. Should be easy to get past my lips. But I choke on it.

I can't stop coughing until I've gotten a drink of water.

* * *

><p>Mom says she wants to visit the next time we talk. I hem and haw before finally agreeing. She says she's going to fly down with Johanna in a couple of days. Johanna. Fan-tas-tic.<p>

Preparations go into the house. I have to extra bedrooms besides the one Peeta and I share. He bakes bread and cakes for their stay while I hunt, killing two large turkeys and a fat rabbit in the process.

They come by train. Haymitch walks with us to meet them. I don't see his goose and when I ask him about it, he lowers his eyes and mumbles something.

"What did you say?" I ask after a moment.

He sighs uncomfortably. "I traded him with Greasy Sae for a bottle."

Alcohol strikes again. "You know she's going to cook him, right, if she hasn't already? He'll go in her next stew."

He shrugs helplessly. "I was desperate."

If the situation wasn't so horrible, it might be funny. Or maybe not.

We stand on the platform as the train comes rolling in. I take Peeta's hand. Mom's is the first face I see, and her loving arms envelop me. I just hold her, struggling not to cry. She's so much like Prim, right down to her blonde hair.

Johanna is elbowing Peeta-making suggestive comments, I'm sure-when I turn toward her. She smiles and waves. Her hair has grown out since the last time I saw her, which really wasn't very long ago.

"Good to see you," she exclaims, hugging me. "Peeta told me the news. Congratulations. I always knew you two would get together."

Mom looks at me and lets out a little shriek. "You two got…married?"

I smile at her jubilant expression. "Just engaged."

The next voice that speaks comes from behind me.

"Well, isn't that some happy news? Congrats, Catnip."

I turn around slowly, taking in the dark-haired man before me. "Hey, Gale."


	6. Too Many Things Happen To Count

Hello! :)

This is a REALLY long chapter. Well, it is for me. It also has a little poem at the end. :D

I still am surprised by the response this has gotten. The truth is, I really didn't expect to get ANY reads, but this is such a huge site...and it has fanfic for almost everyone! Thank you for your comments. :-) Could anyone help by telling me HOW to respond to people on the comments? Ugh. I've been a member of this site for a while but I haven't learned the ropes yet. Haha.

10. Days. Need I say more?

I just learned to play "Safe and Sound" yesterday. Chords are surprisingly easy to learn. If you don't know how to play, Google it. I think the most knowledge you'll need is what keys are what-and then you can go from there. :) Good luck!

Oh, and just at the end: the poem is what's going through Katniss's mind. Kind of on repeat. :D This isn't the last chapter, either. Like I said, I'm going to try to post a chapter every day until the movie comes out. Which might be hard. :P

Enjoy!

-Homey ;)

**Disclaimer**: Katniss, Peeta, Mrs. Everdeen, Johanna, Gale, Paylor, Mags, Finnick, Cinna, Greasy Sae, Annie, and Prim ALL belong to Suzanne Collins. So do any other characters mentioned in this chapter. :-)

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>"Why did you let him come?" I hiss in mom's ear as we wash off dinner dishes.<p>

She turns to look at me, raising her eyebrows, scraping the last remains of goose stew into the trashcan. Greasy Sae came by earlier with our evening meal, which we soon found out to be filled with Haymitch's precious friend. He left for home without word, and none of us really wanted to eat after that.

"Why should you care, Katniss? I thought you'd made your choice."

I scrub at a plate with a bit more force than necessary. "I have, I have! I just don't need Gale involved to complicate things."

"But you already-"

I throw a glass down in the sink, exasperated. "I understand, mom! But I don't want Peeta to be upset right now, and I don't want Gale here!"

Too late, I realize how loud my voice is. I flinch as I hear the steady tread of Gale's thick, leather boots come down the hall, stopping just outside the kitchen.

"I can go home, Katniss."

"Gale-" I spin around, but my words catch in my throat. I don't know what to say. Should I tell him to go, for Peeta's sake, or have him stay for mine?

He holds his hands up in surrender. "I understand my place, Katniss. If you want me to go home, I won't hold it against you."

"It's not that, Gale," I promise, going forward, hating the boundaries between us. "Peeta and I are a couple, now, and I know how you feel about me. I think it's-"

He laughs. Actually _laughs_.

"Wait…you don' think I still love you, do you?"

"No!" I'm quick to say. "I just didn't want things to be awkward between us. You're my best friend."

"Not anymore, I'm not. _He_ is."

I know Peeta can hear everything from where he's sitting in the living room. I know he's waiting for my response.

"But you were, first," I whine at last.

Gale smiles. "I know, Catnip. But he's there for you _now_."

When he comes over to kiss my forehead, I don't protest. I just close my eyes, concentrating on the comforting feel of his lips against my skin.

"I'll stay with Haymitch tonight, and catch the train back tomorrow. It was great to see you. I'm glad you're with him. You two deserve each other."

_I don't deserve Peeta_, I think. _Or you_.

He goes into the living room, saying his goodbyes. I listen until the door closes behind him. Mom, a witness to the whole exchange, comes over to wrap her arms around me in a wordless embrace.

* * *

><p>I lay with Peeta that night, cuddled against his chest. I'm crying silently, trying not to let him see. Before all of this, before the Quarter Quell and losing Finnick and Prim and Boggs, I was stronger. I was able to love both Peeta and Gale.<p>

Now it's just Peeta. And what bothers me is that I don't know if I'm in love with the old him, or the person he's grown to be. I suppose I have changed, too. Maybe our current forms are better suited for being together than the old ones were.

"What are you thinking about?"

I jump a little at his sudden breath tickling my ear.

"You," I whisper after a moment.

He shifts so he is leaning over me, forcing my eyes to meet his. "Katniss, don't lie to me. Please. I thought we were over that."

"We are," I assure him. "I really _was_ thinking about you."

"Oh…" That throws him. He furrows his eyebrows. "What about me?"

I prop my head up with my elbow, smiling wanly. "Peeta, do you think if our names hadn't been called at the reaping, we would be together?"

He shrugs. "I can't say for certain, why?"

"Just wondering," I whisper, rolling over to face the wall.

A few minutes pass before his hand snakes around my waist. He kisses the underside of my jaw gently, comforting me.

"Katniss, I can't say for sure. But I can say that I've loved you practically forever, since that day with the bread."

I giggle and roll over. "You were a kid."

"I had good taste!"

When my laughing dies down, I frown. "I'm glad you still remember things like that."

His eyes soften. "Me, too. I'm getting better about it everyday. Things are coming back to me. Cato and you and even some memories with Snow."

I shudder a little. "But those are the worst ones!"

He sighs, lying back down. "I know."

* * *

><p>It's three days later before the idea for the book comes. I'm sitting in the kitchen cleaning a squirrel when it hits me.<p>

"Peeta!" I yell, dashing across my yard and through his front door.

He looks up from a pile of dough he's kneading and grins. I have to stop for a moment, calm my racing heart. His smile is breathtaking.

"Everything okay, Katniss? Did that squirrel try to maul you?"

I realize I am still holding the half-skinned creature in my hand. I throw it to the floor with disgust, kicking it across the floor.

"No, but I've had a great idea!"

"Let's hear it," he says, wiping his floured hands on a towel. He comes over and gently guides me to the sink to wash my bloody hands-still bright red from the squirrel-in the sink as I jabber on.

"We lost so many people, Peeta, that I think we should make a book in their memory. One with Prim and Cinna and Rue. We can write down all our favorite things about them, what they looked like, what their voice sounded like…and that way we'll never forget them."

He looks up at me quickly, then back down to where he is massaging soap into my palms. It has a strong smell. Clove oil, I realize, and sneeze.

"It'll be hard, Katniss," he points out at last. "Are you really prepared to write about Prim-about her hair, her smile, her laugh, how she lived and...and how she died?"

I swallow a few times before I speak. "Positive. I'm ready, Peeta. It'll kind of be like therapy. It can help _both _of us."

He helps me dry my hands and kisses my nose.

"Fine. We'll start as soon as your mom and Johanna go home."

* * *

><p>But I want them involved. The following evening, I sit down with mom and explain to her what I want to do. Peeta sits with us. Johanna sits next to him. He squeezes my hand under the table as I ask mom for her help with Prim's page.<p>

She doesn't speak for a long time.

"Okay," she squeaks at last. I sigh with relief.

It's not easy, writing about Prim. My confidence shatters the second I pink up the pencil. Slowly, I begin chicken-scratching the words across the paper. They'll be traced over eventually, in calligraphy. A talent of Haymitch's.

_Primrose Everdeen was thirteen when she died_-

"No!" Mom exclaims. "Start out happy. Write about…the day she was born."

I force down a few tears before I can go on. Mom dictates to me. The words flow from her mouth, smooth and melodious. I realize she has been keeping them in for a long time.

_Primrose Everdeen was born May Seventh. Thirteen hours into labor, she finally made her appearance in the world. She was beautiful, with soft blonde curls and big, blue doe eyes. Everyone called her 'Little-Deer'. When she grew to be four, she insisted on changing it to Prim-"Just Prim," as she put it. _

After that, it's easy. We detail every aspect of her life, from the time she first became interested in herbs, to her long hours sewing with mom in front of the fire. I write my own personal stories about Lady and Buttercup, who is sitting by the fire purring. It only becomes nearly impossible to continue when we reach the day of the reaping.

My hands are trembling as mom lays her warm, slender fingers over mine.

"Let me," she whispers, so I do.

We don't speak as her pencil glides across the paper, almost effortlessly. She has to stop a few times to blow her nose or dab at tears escaping the corners of her eyes, but mostly she just has this determined look on her face. And I admit, I'm proud of her. She does it much better than I would have been able to.

"There," she whispers at last, shoving the book back to me. "You finish, Katniss. You were with her in those last moments."

"Me?" I whisper. "Mom…I can't…"

She grabs my shoulders and looks steadily at me. "You can. You will. You _must_. She would do it for you, Katniss."

I know she would. That gives me the strength to finish.

_On the last day of her life, Prim came to the capitol. As bombs rained down in the center of the square, she met my gaze. Her gentle blue eyes were full of strength. She knew she was going to die. But that didn't matter, at least not to her, because she was taking my place. Perhaps fate had been out to get her since the day of the reaping over a year ago. But I'd still do it all over again. For her, I'd do anything._

_ I loved my Prim. I miss her. _

Wordlessly, Peeta takes the book from me and begins to feel Prim's pages with pictures. I lay my head down on the table and keep my eyes closed.

It might be minutes or hours later before I realize Johanna has not said a word. I look up and meet her eyes. She's crying quietly, hardly noticeable. But it's there. The emotion. I hold my arms out to her and she rushes into them.

We kind of hold on to each other as we both cry, whispering the names of those we've lost. The ones the Capitol have so harshly ripped from our grasp. And I feel that maybe we can be friends. Because what is a friend but someone who has shared the same experiences as you, and someone you trust? That's Johanna.

"I'm done," Peeta murmurs huskily, breaking the silence. When he hands my book to me, I can't help but gasp. He's created magic. Prim's face is everywhere. He's sketched her hugging me, kissing mom's cheek, that focused look she got whenever she helped mom heal people.

"Thank you," mom and I whisper simultaneously.

Peeta just shrugs, humble at ever. "It's you that did the real art. The words you chose to describe her were just…beautiful."

We all join hands. Tonight, we have created magic.

* * *

><p>Mom goes home five days later. I hug her at the train station, glad for her warmth, glad I got to see her again.<p>

"Promise me you'll send pictures when you marry him?" She asks, holding me back in order to get a good look at me.

I nod; smile. "Promise."

"Good!" She chirps, trying to be cheerful. "Don't loose touch, Katniss."

I watch as she climbs up the stairs leading into the train, disappearing into the rows and rows of passengers only moments later.

"Thanks for coming, Johanna," I say a moment later, kissing my friend's cheek. "It was fun."

"Fun," she scoffs, elbowing both me and Peeta. "Really, though, I'm happy for you guys. I always knew he was the one, Katniss."

I smile fondly up at Peeta. "So did I."

We head back toward home, hand-in-hand. Tonight I plan to write Cinna's page, and Peeta will draw him for me. Maybe tomorrow we can start on his family.

Peeta's warmth is suddenly gone. Before I have time to search out his hand, He's backed me up against a brick wall.

His arms are braced on either sides of my face and, for a moment, I think he's hallucinating. But I see his eyes-they're clear, light, even joyful. So what's-?

Before I can finish my thought, his lips crash into mine. Fireworks go off in my head as I wrap my hands around his shoulders, drawing him closer. His hands find my waist and lift me off the ground. He does a little spin-in-a-circle type of thing until I accidentally kick his prosthetic leg and we both crumple to the ground.

"Sorry, sorry!" I apologize as I land on top of him. We bump heads and both let out an "ouch!" at the same time. That quickly dissipates into laughter.

"I'm sorry too-for jumping on you like that. I just couldn't wait any longer," Peeta says with a mischievous grin. "I haven't really got to kiss you in a few days."

I kiss him then, just for good measure, and we both laugh.

"Katniss, I love you," he whispers suddenly, touching my lips with the tips of his fingers. I close my eyes.

"You too, Peeta."

He stands up, pulling me with him, rubbing the stump at the top of his prosthetic leg. "I think you owe me about five more kisses…that _really _hurt!"

I just smile.

* * *

><p>Paylor tells us she's was going to air the footage of the Quarter Quell. Apparently, it's required viewing. Even us. She says it's mainly payback for the capitol government, and that she's tacked along some extra scenes on it with President Snow and whatnot.<p>

It's dark and chilly when we all gather in the town square. Peeta thought to bring blankets, and I'm glad. As we situate ourselves on the ground, he opens a picnic basket and hands me a cheese bun. My favorite. He knows this will be hard for me.

I lean against him and instantly his arm winds around my shoulders. I bury my face in his neck as the screen crackles and blurs to life.

Out of the crook of Peeta's arm, I can just make out Haymitch next to me, taking hearty swigs from a clear bottle. The liquid inside is brown. I'm far too numb to ask him what it is. To be honest, I'm past the point of caring. Let Haymitch ruin himself. Let him drown in his sorrow. At least I_ try_ to keep afloat.

I can close my eyes, but I can't block out the sounds of the footage. I hear Finnick's voice and, for a moment, I think maybe it's really him. But then I remember that he's dead and most of these people from the Quell are.

"There's Mags," Peeta breathes from beside me.

I only very briefly look up as a dull ache begins in my throat. She's there, all right. Little, wrinkly, mumbling Mags in all her grey-haired glory. She volunteered to take Annie's place during the reaping. Annie, Finnick's love. Which didn't even matter because she lost Finnick only a few short months later. Because of me.

"I can't Peeta, I can't," I whisper into his neck. He understands and holds me tighter. But I can't get up and run. Required viewing means that if you skip it, you can go to prison, or even be executed. But those were President Snow's rules. Now that Paylor's president…

I'm about to bolt when the face, the voice, everything about her stops me. She's there, flooding the screen. Plump-faced, rosy-cheeked, golden-haired and beautiful. Prim.

"If anyone can win, it's Katniss," she says cheerfully as a Capitol man shoves a microphone in her face. "She's got Peeta there to help her, too."

"Who would you rather come out alive, Katniss or Peeta?" The man asks earnestly. Prim blinks in confusion, then her features settle.

"They're both coming out," she says confidently. "They'll find a way."

The man laughs nervously. "And what makes you so sure?"

She looks right at the screen, then. Right at me.

"Because Katniss _always_ finds a way," she says with conviction. "Always."

No, no, no, Prim. You're wrong. I didn't find a way. I didn't find a way to save you and no matter what I do I never will.

I begin sobbing, then. These horrible noises come from somewhere deep inside me, shredding my heart, churning my stomach, burning my throat. Peeta tries to soothe me as he holds my hair and kisses my cheeks. But nothing he does helps.

I bend over and throw up. Right on his shoes.

I'm on my feet before anyone can stop me. I dash past Haymitch, who's too drunk at this point to even try to grab me, and take off down the rows of people. Luckily, there aren't any peacekeepers watching the crowd. Not like they used to.

I take off down the street, heading for…I don't know where.

The meadow, of course. The meadow.

As I run it begins to rain, and the ground under me grows slicker with each step. As I come up to the familiar barbwire fence, I freeze.

Because the meadow's not a meadow anymore. It's a gaping hole piled knee-deep with dead bodies.

I try not to look at them, see the faces, but it's nearly impossible. I single out certain people, letting out strained cries when I find them. He's dead. She's dead. They're dead. Oh, he died? Of course she did. Yup. All my fault.

I hate myself, then. Truly loathe the person that I am. I wish that, back in the first Hunger Games, I had just _eaten_ those stupid berries. If I had, none of this would have happened. Peeta would have been the victor and Prim would be alive and they would all move on. Because no one really needs _me_.

But I need most everyone.

* * *

><p><em>I am Katniss Everdeen. The Girl on Fire. <em>

_ I am a cheat, a scandal, a liar._

_ I am the Mockingjay_

_They called me out to play _

_ And oh, what could I say? _

_ They took everything I had _

_ Sad, Mad, Glad _

_ They were bad. _

_ My beautiful Prim _

_ Her eyes went dim _

_ Then came her end _

_ My bow and arrows _

_ I shot them into harrowed hearts _

_ My choices were narrow _

_ And here I lay _

_ On the ground _

_ While Peeta holds me _

_ I think I'm crying _

_ I might be dying _

_ But I am trying _

_ I need to stand _

_ And take her hand _

_ She'll pull me away _

_ But he won't let me go _

_ He doesn't know the things I know _

_ And so I settle for this fate _


	7. In Which Katniss Actually Has Fun

Hello!

I've got to say, I was SO surprised and excited when I logged into my email this morning and had a few more reviews. I'm now up to seventeen. Thank you so much everyone who's reviewing, adding me to favorite authors/story...you made my day!

This chapter was so much fun to write! :-) It starts out sort of somber, as are most things with Katniss and Peeta, but I think it has a happy ending. Let me know what you think! Next chapter should be up tomorrow morning!

Thanks so much!

-Homey ;)

**Disclaimer:** These characters and settings all belongs to Suzanne Collins.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>Peeta doesn't talk as he leads me home, tucks me into bed, and heads downstairs. A few moments later, I hear a screech as a teakettle boils. I lose track of time after that, but I know it's not much longer before he appears in the doorway with a steaming mug clamped in his hands.<p>

I take it from him, drinking the hot liquid with earnest even though it burns my throat. I'm a bit embarrassed about what happened back in the meadow. Me, begging Peeta to let me die. Crying. Kill me please? He said no.

"Are you going to watch me all the time, now?" I ask.

Peeta starts to shake his head and instead smiles wryly. "Probably."

I sit up, kicking the sheets away from me as I do so. "I'm not going to kill myself, Peeta. Promise. I just had a momentary lapse in judgment."

"Begging me to kill you is a _momentary lapse in judgment_?"

I flinch. "For me, yes."

He sighs. "Katniss…"

"Peeta!"

His eyes go dark and he sighs. "I don't understand. You act like you have closure, and then you go off and do something like that just because you see her!"

I'm surprised by this sudden change in subject. "What?"

He steps closer. "You act like maybe you'll be okay. Like you've moved on from her death. But then certain things trigger stuff in you and-"

I close my eyes. "Please, Peeta. Don't talk about it."

"But that's just IT!" He cries, throwing his hands up. "You NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT. You will never, _ever_ have your life back if you don't."

"Maybe I don't want it back," I say, lips trembling. "Maybe I deserve to suffer."

"All you do is feel sorry for yourself!" Peeta laments.

I look at him with disbelief, my lips curling away from my teeth in a horrible grimace. "And all you do is go on and on about other people, like you know absolutely EVERYTHING. I've been through much worse than you, Peeta!"

His hands are shaking, but he's calm. I realize how far he's come since the days of the Capitol. He's changed. Back to the boy he used to be.

"Did they take you and torture you, Katniss? Did they make you want to kill everyone you loved? Did they take your _whole_ family? Did they take everything good about you and change it? Did you have to fight to get it back?"

"No!" I exclaim. "No they didn't torture me, Peeta. They did much worse than that! They used me! They used me against people I loved! They took not only everything good about me, but every _thing_ about me! And they made me different and horrible. They took more than my family-they took my life!"

Peeta just breathes. My heart is pounding.

And then I'm hitting him, over and over again, with blows so determined it must hurt. He doesn't say anything, though, just captures my wrists and holds me as I thrash and call him every bad name I know. When my legs move to kick him, he forces me onto the bed, holding me down.

I'm a screaming, writhing, sorry mess of the person I used to be. Peeta shouldn't have to take care of me like this-it's not fair to him. But then again, he's the only person I have left…

"Katniss!" He's yelling. "Katniss, _stop_!"

I glare up at him. "No."

And you know what he does? He laughs.

"Let me go!" I screech, wriggling under his grip.

He's laughing so hard his hold loosens. I take that as my opportunity to punch him in the stomach. His eyes bug out from his head and he goes rolling off the bed. I still hear him laughing, though.

"What's so funny?" I demand, leaning over the bed to look down at him.

He doesn't answer. I think he's short of breath.

I roll my eyes as his chuckles continue. Eventually I end up on the floor beside him. His laughter is funny to listen to-a little hitching sound. Like hiccups. That makes me picture Peeta doing something as trivial as hiccupping and I start laughing, too.

"You…" He gasps, in between spurts of laughter. "Said…No…Like…You…"

"Like I what?" I say, giggling.

Tears are running down his cheeks. "You got this…look on your face…and you looked like you were…four."

I try to re-create the expression and I'm sure it's unconvincing so we both just start laughing again.

I can't remember laughing so hard or so long _ever_. It's almost like I'm in hysterics and I end up being sillier than is necessary. Peeta doesn't seem to mind, though, he just laughs with me.

I get to my feet, grabbing his hand, and start pulling him toward the front door. The moon has come up and a nice breeze winds through the trees. I march with him toward the woods, keeping my gaze straight ahead as not to see the bodies in the meadow, and duck under the fence.

Peeta keeps asking me where we're going but I just ignore him. The hike takes longer than I remember it being, and I wish I had packed some kind of snack, but whatever. We can eat berries if it comes down to it. Just the nightlock kind.

I can't help wondering how we went from being so somber to so happy. It's probably some mental imbalance in my brain. Maybe I have split personality disorder. After about ten minutes of trying to sort my thoughts out, I just give up on them. Tonight, I'm going to have fun. I'll worry about possible brain damage in the morning.

It gets colder as the trees cast shadows. The deeper into the forest we get, the safer I feel. It seems to have the opposite affect on Peeta. He's gone rigid, shivering.

"We're almost there," I announce, as I can hear it up ahead.

"Almost where?"

I turn around and wink at him. "You'll see."

We crash through the underbrush, walk to the clearing, and there it is. The lake my father used to bring me too. Where I learned to swim.

Peeta just stares as I pull my shirt off, followed by my pants, revealing a very faded pair of undergarments. I don't really care, though. My modesty was lost in the Capitol. Heck, Panem's probably seen me _naked_ before. Ew.

Trying not to over think things, I jump straight into the water.

It's cold as it bubbles up over me, and refreshing. I open my eyes and see nothing but inky darkness. Perfect.

When I surface, Peeta is crouched on the bank, his head tilted to the side.

"What are you doing, Katniss? It's probably thirty degrees in there!"

"Colder," I deadpan, trying not to shiver. "Now, get in here-it's time for your first swimming lesson!"

Peeta instantly smirks. "Sorry. Not happening."

"What are you?" I tease, diving under the water. I resurface a second later, just a few yards away. "Chicken?"

Peeta just rolls his eyes. "C'mon out, Katniss, you're going to get sick."

"Been through worse," I say in my most innocent voice. Don't think about what things you've been through. Think about having fun. "Stop being a baby and come on!"

"No thanks," Peeta says, holding his hands up in surrender. "Not interested."

I just smile and dive underwater. I can see him, crouched precariously on the bank, trying to peer into the dark water to see me. His wrist is extended just slightly over the edge of the lake…

I reach up and grab Peeta, pulling him with all my strength into the water. He crashes in on top of me, saying a few unrepeatable words in the process. I had no idea Peeta even _knew_ half those words. I grin.

Luckily, the water is shallow here, and he stands with ease.

"Katniss!" He exclaims, then curses. My smile gets wider.

"What?" He asks, for I'm grinning so big it must look fake, or at least painful.

"You said a bad word!" My words dissolve into a fit of giggles.

Peeta just smiles. "Is that so surprising?"

I nod, forcing my mouth into a neutral expression, though my eyes are still twinkling. He looks at me for a long time before he reaches out and tucks a piece of wet hair behind my ear.

"You're beautiful, Katniss."

Be nice. Do not call him names. Do not react with violence.

"_Thank_ you, Peeta," I say so evenly he raises his eyebrows.

"What? You're not going to hit me? Say I'm stupid?"

I sigh. "Not tonight. I've resolved to try and be a nice person."

"Do you think you can do it?"

"Possibly."

"Okay, then."

We stand there, grinning at each other. Then I reach forward and start unbuttoning his shirt. He raises his eyebrows.

"Anxious, are we?"

I glare at him. He laughs.

"Kidding…kidding…"

I nod. "Sure." Peeling the wet fabric off his skin, I throw it on the bank. "I'm sure you don't necessarily want to swim with your clothes on, do you?"

"You have clothes on."

I'm glad it's night so he can't see how scarlet I'm blushing.

"_Barely_," I remind him, then turn my back to him. "First, we're going to start with floating on your back, okay? It's easy."

Slowly, I ease myself up until I'm laying across the water, keeping my ears in the water, staring at the stars.

Peeta blocks my view a second later as he leans down and kisses my lips.

I immediately go underwater, inhaling some in the process. I come up coughing, while he watches me with an amused smile.

"Now we're even, Katniss."

I lurch forward and press my mouth to his, using all my strength to push him underwater. I come up before he does, laughing.

That quickly turns into a shriek as something underneath the water catches my ankle and swiftly tugs me under.

Peeta is there, waving at me. In the center of the lake.

All I can comprehend is panic. He's going to drown!

I swim forward, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, frantically trying to pull him up out of the water. After a few unsuccessful attempts, I finally manage to do so, dragging him back toward the bank.

He starts laughing as I run my hands over his face, asking if he's okay and does he need help? We can go see Haymitch.

"Katniss," he says in a reprimanding tone. "I learned to swim already, while I was in the Capitol with Dr. A. It was a part of my therapy."

I'm so surprised I nearly fall over. Peeta reaches out to steady me.

"But you…"

"Are fine," he says, grinning. "Shocked?"

I hit his shoulder with the heel of my hand. He smirks.

"I thought you were going to be _nice_, Katniss!"

I just glare at him in a huff, turning away. Peeta reaches out to catch my waist before I can go. He lifts me into his arms, gently pressing his lips to mine.

The kiss instantly invades every thought, emotion, and snarky reply I had before. His lips are so soft, so gentle, against mine. All I am able to comprehend is how warm this feels, especially standing in an extremely cold lake.

"Katniss," he whispers in between kisses. Just him saying my name makes my heart flutter. "I love you…"

"I love you, too," I say, then freeze.

Peeta pulls away. I instantly miss him. But he keeps his arms around me, which is nice. "What was that?"

I purse my lips and look down. "N-nothing."

"Oh," he says lightly, touching my cheek. "I think it was something."

I look up at him, reaching forward to kiss him. His arms hold me back.

"I'll let you kiss me…as soon as you repeat what you said."

"Peeta!" I whine. "C'mon. It's not a big deal."

"Oh, on the contrary, Katniss. It's a _very_ big deal. Especially coming from you."

I sigh. "Fine…I said…ugh!"

Peeta looks at with concern. "Why is it so hard for you to say, Katniss?"

I swallow. "Because, I, uh…"

He kisses my forehead. "You know you can tell me."

"I know…" I say. My throat feels thick. "I just don't want me to have anyone else taken away that I love. You're too precious to ruin."

"Oh, Katniss," he whispers, pulling me close. We kiss.

"I love you, Peeta," I say under his lips. "So much."

His reply is mumbled because of the kiss but it sounds a lot like, "_You too_."


	8. Haymitch, Thom, and an Engagement

Hi! :D

So here it is-the next chapter. Yay! Sorry I'm updating late. Busy day today! Hopefully this chapter is satisfactory, though it doesn't have as much playful stuff as the last one. Oh, and I must say, I was SO surprised by the response to the last chapter. (esp. reviews!) Wow. Thank you all SO much for even reading this story, much less taking the time to adding it to your favorites/typing out a review. :)

So here's the next chapter! Haha! Oh, and I'm up to 15,000 words. (I think?) Yay! This is probably the fastest I've EVER written a story. It's insane. It usually takes me weeks to clear ten thousand. Or so, it seems like it. Anyway, I appreciate it so much.

Nine. Days. EEEKS! I'm actually NOT going to see it the day it premiers (surprised? haha) because it's always so busy. I'm not much for crowds. :P Are you guys gonna see "The Hunger Games" movie? If so, when?

Thanks!

-Homey ;)

**Disclaimer:** Settings/Characters/Plots all the creation of Suzanne Collins. I just write the dialogue and some new plots! ;)

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>When I wake up the next morning the only thing I am able to register is how happy I am. I lay in the grass, across Peeta's chest, and he holds me close. I'm sill in my underwear, but I don't mind. It's no different than a swimsuit.<p>

I worm my way out of his grasp, taking special care not to wake him. I tread silently over to where my clothes are hanging, now dry, on a tree. I pull them on. They're starchy and smell like moss and rain.

I leave Peeta lying by the lake, venturing into the woods to pick some blueberries. I eat a couple while I gather them. When I'm done my hands are stained purple. My stomach rumbles and growls, so I eat a few more.

When I get back, Peeta is already dressed and splashing water on his face. I sit beside him, holding out my handful of berries. He takes them and dumps them all into his mouth at once, chewing and swallowing. I take more time, eating them one by one, letting them melt across my tongue.

"Last night..." Peeta stops, looking at me from the corner of his eye. "It was fun, Katniss. Thank you."

I blush as I remember the teasing, the _I love you_'s, and especially the kisses. It _was_ fun but I probably should have been grieving instead of splashing around with Peeta. But then again maybe having fun was exactly what I needed.

I am a walking contradiction.

Being messed up is not one of the higher points in my life. I can't pinpoint where I changed. A lot of me wants to think it was with Prim, that momentous switch, but I have a feeling being this way was building inside me all alone. From the very first minute of the Hunger Games, where the boy died right in front of me, this begun. It was subtle, at first. But as I lost more and more people so dear to me, it built. Brick by brick. Pain, and then more pain. Loss. So much loss.

"I don't know how I'm ever going to heal," I whisper aloud.

Peeta, who was braiding grass before, turns to look at me. "I know the feeling."

I turn to look at him, struggling to swallow my tears. "I don't even know what steps to take, Peeta. I have good days, and then I have bad ones. People think that going through this is easy. But the ones who truly know and understand…they're all dead."

"War changes you," Peeta muses, scratching at the back of his head. "I think you and I know this the best of all."

My lips are quivering. "I hate crying."

His start to tremble, too. "So do I."

Before the tears can spill I get to my feet, motioning for Peeta to come along. "Let's go home. We shouldn't leave Haymitch without some adult supervision for too long. He'll end up burning his house down or something."

Even though I know this isn't true, Peeta seems to understand and comes along. The hike back home is silent, so different from the night before. When the town comes into view I close my eyes, trying not to see the bodies. I decide it was dangerous to even come here. Not physically, but mentally. The woods will have to wait.

Greasy Sae is in the kitchen when we enter, mixing up some awful-smelling, bubbling, black concoction on the stove.

"Found Haymitch passed out drunk," she explains as we stare. "Bad hangover. Give him this to clear his head."

She ladles a couple spoonfuls of the tar-like mixture into a glass, diluting the rest with water. I take it from her, keeping it an arm's length away. Peeta offers to go over to Haymitch's with me, but I tell him it's fine. He disappears into his place a moment later to bake.

When I open the door to the house, the stench of unwashed body and rotten liquor invades my nose. I sneeze a couple of times. There is goose poop everywhere-splattered on the floor, the kitchen table, even the walls.

I climb up the carpeted steps, wondering why Haymitch let such a house go to so waste. He's there, when I open his bedroom door, moaning and groaning about a terrible headache. His hands on are his face.

"What do you want, Sae?" He snarls as the door creaks open.

"It's Katniss, you idiot," I say with all the love a daughter would. I hand him the glass. He pulls his hand away from his eyes, grimacing. They're bloodshot.

"What in the name of-" He says, when he sees the drink.

"It's for a hangover," I say, sitting on the end of the bed. "If I were you, I'd drink it. Looks pretty strong."

Haymitch sits up, holds his nose, and downs the whole glass. When he pulls away he's coughing and sputtering. A second later, he rushes into the bathroom and I hear him throw up. _Okay, Sae_. I think. _A drink that makes even iron-stomached Haymitch puke. Good call, good call. _

He stumbles back into the room a moment later, wiping at his mouth with a handkerchief. I scoot over so he can sit beside me.

"Where were you two last night? You got up and left during the showing."

Was that really only yesterday evening? It feels so long ago.

"We went into the woods," I say a moment later with careful, measured words. "Tried to get our minds off of things. It was hard."

Haymitch snorts. "Hard? That was like hell, Katniss. Easiest thing to do is drink until you can't remember any of it."

I feel sorry for Haymitch, then. He's just as sad as Peeta and I.

"What footage did they show of Snow?" I ask.

He snorts. "It was stuff that didn't even happen. They edited the video until it looked like you shot Snow, not Coin, and then the crowd cheered instead of trampling each other to get to you. His family never saw what actually happened, so that was mostly for show.

"I'm glad I didn't stay, then. I don't think I could have handled any more lies."

He grunts. "I know the feeling. S'not easy like it used to be."

I nod in agreement.

After a few minutes of this I get up, say goodbye to Haymitch, and head back toward the house. At the last second, I change my mind and instead try to go to the town where Thom is working. On my way, I spot quite a few people I know, saying hello to them. They seem surprised to see me. I can't figure out why.

"Hi, Katniss," he says as I walk up to him. The bodies with the carts-they're gone. They working on building the factory that is going to make medicines.

"Hi, Thom," I say, sitting down on the grass. I stare up at him. "How are things coming along?"

He shrugs. "They're okay. Lots of people didn't come into work today, so it's been slow."

"Why?" I ask.

He raises his eyebrows at me. "The Quarter Quell showing last night was hard on a lot of our people. Most of them need the day off to….calm down."

My throat suddenly feels thick. I nod.

"Anyway," Thom says, and the somber mood shatters. "How are you, Katniss?"

"I'm good," I say, trying to mean it. "Peeta and I are moved in together."

Thom smiles. "You are?"

I hold out hand to show him the ring, then remember I'm not wearing it. It needs to be fixed. Instead, I pull my hand back, cradling it to my chest like a wounded animal.

"Yeah. Engaged, too."

He grins. "Good. Congrats to you two. You deserve happiness." He turns back to his work, stacking a few bricks. "When's the big day?"

I open my mouth to answer, then realize I don't know. "I guess we're not sure yet. We haven't even done a toasting."

He raises his eyebrows. "Well, I hope you can give me a date soon so I can put it on my calendar. Count me in."

I doubt Thom actually has a calendar but I say okay anyway and thank him, heading back toward my home. The smell of baking bread is now wafting through Peeta's open window. I change my mind and open the door to his house instead, going to sit down at the kitchen table.

"Hi, Katniss," he says, and goes back to kneading dough.

I watch his hands as they work rhythmically, pounding out the dough, smoothing it down, kneading it with his knuckles. The way he works is beautiful. My eyes travel the length of his arm, up to his face, and I stare at his eyes as they flick down to concentrate on the dough, then up to me briefly, then back down.

His eyelashes are long, probably longer than mine. They're fine and blonde and they cast shadows over his cheekbones. His lips are full and curved. I have the sudden urge to pull him close and kiss him.

"Something wrong?" He asks, pulling me out of my revere.

I blush. "No. I was just, um, looking at you."

He smirks. "You know, I do that a lot, too."

"Look at yourself?"

"Look at you."

I give him an exasperated groan and plop my head down on the table. I wait a long time before I speak again.

"When are we getting married, Peeta?"

I don't look up but I hear as he stops kneading. The tap of his leather shoes sound on the floor as he comes over and runs his hand through my hair.

"I didn't know you wanted to."

I look up at him, grinning. "I _did_ say yes, Peeta. That usually means I want to."

He gives me a breathtaking smile. "As soon as you're ready, Katniss."

I purse my lips. "Let's say….in a week or so."

He raises his eyebrows. "What bought this on so suddenly?"

I lick my lips nervously, smiling up at him. "You."


	9. Pre Wedding Jitters

Hi Guys! :)

This is a fairly long chapter titled "Pre-Wedding Jitters". :D I'm sure you can guess what it's about. Haha.

Once again, thankyouthankyouthankyou for all the amazing reviews. 3 I so appreciate them! :) I swear I said, "Awe!" a couple times reading over them. Haha. But seriously, thanks! I'm so glad to share this story with you guys.

-Homey ;D

**Disclaimer:** It was Suzanne Collin's brilliant idea to marry Peeta and Katniss. I just wrote out the scenes to go along with it.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

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><p>Do not ask me why I decided to involve Effie Trinket and my airhead styling team in my wedding, but I did.<p>

"Oh, Katniss, _yay_!" Octavia squeals over the phone. "We'll be there in an hour…oh, I forgot you're not _here_, you're in twelve. Venia, come here, Katniss is calling! Flavius?"

I suppress a groan as the phone is handed from person to person, screeching congratulations in my ear. Maybe Peeta and I should have done a toasting. At least it would've been easier than this.

"You, Katniss Everdeen, have truly surprised me!" Venia says when she comes on the line. She, with her gold tattoos and blue hair, has always been my favorite. During the Quarter Quell and the war, she was the only one able to focus on her job-me-and stay strong. The others left crying. Not that I could blame them.

"What are you thinking?" Venia asks. "Should we go sleek and sophisticated or plain and simple?"

"Please, plain and simple," I try to say without whining. I imagine myself decked out in their idea of sophisticated and shudder. "I just want a simple wedding."

Venia, even over the phone, sees what an ordeal this is for me and replies with a chipper, "Absolutely!"

When I hang up I turn to Peeta, rolling my eyes. "Well, this should be interesting…if anything."

He grins. "Oh, Katniss, life's _always_ interesting with us."

* * *

><p>Effie, she was a different story. Always down to business. I told her on a Sunday and there she was the next morning, knocking at my door. She frowns as she takes in District Twelve, how deserted the streets are, and the makeshift homes.<p>

"What are you doing here!" I exclaim.

She smiles at me. "Hello, Katniss. How are you?"

I shake my head in disbelief. "Fine, but…but….what are you doing?"

She frowns. "Helping you get ready for your wedding, silly girl! Now, are you going to let me come in or not? I can't _take_ it out here much longer!"

I step to the side and she brushes past me, calling hello to Peeta who looks at her with wide-eyed surprise. We exchange a glance and I make an "I'm dead" sign across my throat. He mirrors me. We both laugh quietly.

Effie is standing in the living room as I walk in to talk to her. She's wearing seven-inch stiletto heels, which look more like they should be used for weapons than walking. Her hair is in its usual up-do, and her face is powder white.

"Where are we going to have the wedding?" She cries. "We need a venue! Someplace with good lighting…Katniss?"

"In here?" I suggest faintly. "It's big."

She growls an okay. I just smile.

"And the cake?"

"Peeta's making it."

"He's making his own _wedding cake_?"

I just purse my lips. "Yes, Effie. He _does _happen to be a baker!"

She throws her head back and stomps her foot, then looks up at me hopefully.

"How about the dress?"

"Flavius, Venia, and Octavia are taking care of it," I reply, crossing my arms.

She groans, plopping down on the couch with the weight of the world on her shoulders, or so it seems. "There's nothing for me to _do_!"

Now, I've seen a lot of scary things in my time, but Effie Trinket having a meltdown has to be one of the worst.

"There's…décor?" I suggest, coming up with the only other word I've heard people use when talking about weddings.

Effie's head bobs up. "Oh, wow! I can't believe I didn't think of that. _Thank_ you, Katniss! I'll get _right_ on it!"

She stands and, without another word, bustles from the room. I hear Peeta call goodbye to her and then she slams the door a moment later.

"Effie Trinket is decorating for us," I announce as I sit at the kitchen table. My eyes are sort of glazed over.

"Terrific," Peeta mumbles. He reaches over to me and grabs my hand, squeezing it faintly. "Whatever happens, this Saturday is about you and me, Katniss. Okay?"

I sigh. "Fine."

"Now, let's go tell Haymitch!"

* * *

><p>Haymitch takes the news surprisingly well. He tilts his head to the side, narrows his eyes at us, and smiles.<p>

"Knew it wouldn't be much longer before you two tied the knot."

I instantly pull my hand away from Peeta's. I don't like people assuming anything about us. Even if it was pretty obvious we were going to get married.

Haymitch invites us in, where he shuffles into the kitchen and surprises me by emerging from his fridge with a bottle of champagne.

"Special times call for special occasions," he explains, popping the top off. The bottle bubbles over and he begins to pour hearty amounts into glasses. Peeta and I just exchange an anxious glance. I've never had champagne before. I don't even know what it tastes like.

"Here," Haymitch says, handing a glass first to Peeta, then me. "Cheers to Katniss and Peeta. May your life be long and prosperous."

I can't help smiling as I clink my glasses to theirs and slowly lift the drink to my lips. I'm surprised by the taste. It's not incredibly strong like Haymitch's other choices of drink, and it's somewhat sweet. I sip about half before I put it down and say I'm full.

Peeta is quick to follow. As we sit around and talk, Haymitch finishes his cup, and then ours. We discuss everything imaginable. Geese, food, happiness, love…it all blends together into one incredibly long conversation.

"Who's your bridesmaid gonna be?" Haymitch asks gruffly.

I shrug. "Maybe I won't have one." Then something occurs to me. "But I _do_ need someone to walk me down the aisle. Haymitch, will you do it?"

"_Me_?" He asks incredulously.

"Yes, you," I say with annoyance. "C'mon, please?"

"Guess you're 'bout the closest thing I have to a daughter, now," he finally agrees, in his weird, Haymitch-y way.

"Pet, remember?" I tease.

He just smiles at me.

* * *

><p>We send out phone invitations to mom, Annie, Johanna, Betee, Paylor, Gale's mother, Hazel, his siblings…basically everyone we love who is alive. And there aren't many. Most of District Twelve we invite personally. They all agree to come. When we're done, the total attendance is expected to be around forty.<p>

As the day draws closer and closer, my stomach gets to feeling heavier and heavier. I can't breathe. Every time Peeta so much as touches me, I flinch. And I don't know why. Maybe I'm anticipating the actual wedding aftermath. You know, the post-glory, honeymoon phase where so many couples are head-over-heels. I can't be that girl, though. Not even for Peeta.

Maybe it won't be the same, being bound so closely. Maybe it won't be different. I've never been much for surprises. I want to know what I'm getting into _before_ I get into it. I'm the girl who wants to know how much something will hurt so I can expect it.

That's why loving Peeta has been so risky. I didn't _know_ love before him. I didn't know what a kiss was like. I still don't know what it's like to have your heart broken-and I hope I never will. People tell me it's a different pain than the physical sort. It's emotional, it's mental…and it goes much deeper inside you than a lick of flame or a punch ever will.

Saturday comes. Peeta manages to kiss my forehead before Flavius bursts into the room and whisks him away. Venia appears a moment later, towing a whole beauty regimen with her. There's products that guarantee you silky-smooth skin, toothpaste that makes you have a "glowing, vibrant, smile", razors that will remove every last inch of hair, even acne cream. I don't know if I should that find insulting, seeing as I don't have one pimple. But whatever-it _is _Venia, after all.

"Octavia will do your hair," she mumbles as she pushes me into the bathroom. I'm forced to strip down right then and there. She ushers me into the tub, squirting in various soaps and sprinkling rose petals in the water. Roses.

"Get those out!" I cry as I see them.

Venia's eyes widen and she seems to understand. In one swift motion, they're scooped into her palm and thrown out the window. She backs from the room, mumbling for me to take my time.

I take a deep breath and sink lower into the water, until just my nose and eyes are peeking out. Do not think about the roses. Do not think about the roses.

I think I doze off because the next thing I know, Venia is back inside.

"Katniss!" She exclaims. "Come out NOW or you're going to prune!"

I step out and wrap a robe around me, mumbling apologies. Octavia is waiting for me in the bedroom. She holds out a kind of underwear-set I have never seen before. It's lacy and blue. Do people who have weddings usually wear fancy underpants?

"It's lingerie," Venia exclaims, taking in my befuddled expression. "You know-"

"I know! I know!" I exclaim, before she can go into specifics. I'm sure my face is bright red. Octavia movies to hand it to me but I hold up my hand to stop her.

"I don't want it."

"But you should-" she protests. I silence her with a glare.

"I just want my regular stuff."

"Fine," she grumbles, apparently extremely put-out that I have no interest in wearing _lace_ to cover me.

I grumble when they put me in a tight-fitting slip, but they threaten either this or the lingerie. Nope, I'll take this, thank you very much.

They won't let me put the dress on until my hair is done. I sit down and they begin the braid that's my trademark, the one my mother taught them. I know if it were up to them, I'd have red hair and orange makeup, but I have a feeling they're trying to honor Cinna tonight. He always said I looked better more natural.

My makeup is very faint, just light sweeps of blusher and mascara. My lips are coated in a warm, cream, rose gloss. When I look into the mirror, I can't help but smile. They've managed to make me pretty again.

"You're gorgeous," Octavia says, wiping tears from her eyes. "Though the alterations would have been nice on you-"

"No implants, thanks," I say, forcing a smile. Venia winks at me. She understands. I have a feeling she always will.

Flavius bursts into the room, clapping. "The groom is now finished." He catches sight of me and gasps. "Oh, wow, Katniss. You look gorgeous."

I beam. "_Thank_ you, Flavius!"

He grins.

They get started on the rest of me-rubbing cream on my arms, legs, and hands, checking that every last patch of my body hair is removed, so on and so forth. When I stand, I'm starving and glad we made the wedding at twelve. It won't be long now before I can eat. Greasy Sae is going out of her way tonight to make an array of good foods-rabbit stew, chowder with fish from district four (a gift from Annie), and fresh salads. Peeta took the liberty of making pies, cakes, and various fruit pastries.

My mouth begins to water just thinking about it, but I quickly clamp it shut before I can start drooling. I don't want to ruin my makeup.

"Close your eyes!" Octavia chirps, and I know the time for the dress has come. They insisted on it being a surprise-so if I turn out decked in goose feathers and tulle, there's really nothing I can do.

As my eyelids slide shut, the world goes back. I hear the rustle of some sort of fabric-silk, maybe?, and feel it as something cool glides over my body. Definitely silk. It's light and comfortable, so that's a good start.

I don't know how long I stand there before Flavius' voice is suddenly at my ear.

"Open your eyes, Katniss."

I do, and the first thing I see is Venia, Octavia, and Flavius looking at me with expectant smiles. Then I look in the mirror.

The dress is…wow. It's much more simple and elegant than I ever would have given them credit for. The top has a rectangular cut, revealing just a bit of skin. It's fitted until right under my ribcage, where it flows out in smooth wafts to the floor. The sleeves are only a few inches long and cover my skin just past the tops of my arms.

"Guys….thank you!" I exclaim, whirling around to hug them. "I love it."

Then they all start crying, even Venia.

"You are beautiful," she says in between gulps of air. "And don't you ever forget it. Thank you, Katniss. For being a part of our team."

I can't help but smile.

Haymitch enters the room a moment later, looking debonair and uncomfortable in a brown suit. He clears his throat and adjusts the bowtie around his neck.

"They're ready for you," he announces.

I grin, letting him take my arm. Octavia throws me a goodbye before hurrying from the room and down a flight of stairs into the living room. I notice that she's changed her dress. Flavius and Venia follow. They're wearing different outfits, too. Somewhere along the line, they managed to make themselves presentable. It's kind of shocking, really. The clothes they have on are fairly plain-so unlike them. I then realize they're trying not to overshadow me and tears spring to my eyes. The gesture is so unexpected-so sweet-it moves me to tears.

Years ago, I would never have bet on Capitol people sacrificing anything for me. Appearance is definitely high on the list for them. And just today, because they truly do love me, they're stepping down. Giving me my moment to shine. And I love them for that.

"You ready?" Haymitch whispers. The smell of alcohol on his breath is lacking.

I grin. "Have you been eating mints?"

"Huh?" He looks at me with confusion and then my words seem to dawn on him. "Ah…no. I swore off alcohol for the week. I didn't want to ruin your day by being drunk. So I'm not going to have a sip. Not of anything. Until tomorrow." He chuckles.

People keep surprising me. I throw my arms around Haymitch, kissing his cheek. It's smooth, so he shaved.

"Er…let's not do that again," he says as I pull away. I hear music start up from down below, and I grin.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

We link arms and start down the steps. Only as we are halfway down does it occur to me that I've left the decorating completely up to Effie, and I have no idea what awaits us. Maybe tigers in cages, or snakes hanging from the ceiling.

God help us all.

I turn, keeping my head down, and our feet hit the bottom step. I keep my head down for three beats of the music, and then slowly look up.

I don't register the guests around me, the smiles on the faces, Peeta, or even the music. All I see are the decorations.

Because the house is decked out from top to bottom in primroses.


	10. The Union of Two Very Important People

Hi Guys! :)

Bet you thought I was gonna forget updating, didn't ya? Well, I couldn't possibly! The truth is, today was a busy day and I also had a difficult time writing this chapter. Peeta and Katniss tend to write themselves so easily, I kind of forgot what it was like having to think something through. Obviously, this is the wedding scene, which is a big moment. I'm not sure I'm completely satisfied with the chapter yet. We'll see. I may re-write. Part of the problem is that I didn't want their marriage vows/ceremony to be traditional. They're unique, and their wedding should be, too. Don't know what's in store for the next chapter, yet, but probably more dialogue with guests than this chapter had.

Oh, well. I hope I did them justice! And once again, thank you a million times over for the reviews. I love them! :D

Let me know what you think!

-Homey ;)

**Disclaimer:** All the creation of Suzanne Collins. I just love Peeta and Katniss so much I had to write about them!

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>Prim is here, then.<p>

Everywhere.

Invading my thoughts. I imagine her sitting in the front row. She turns to look at me. She's beautiful. Her hair is loose around her shoulders. She's wearing a light blue dress. She gives me a thumbs-up sign. She smiles. She tells me she's happy for me.

She would be.

"Katniss, we need to keep moving," Haymitch hisses in my ear. I see his face is going red from embarrassment.

"Sure…" I stutter, blinking rapidly.

He nudges me forward. I take a deep breath and keep walking. Somehow, I manage to shove Prim to the back of my mind, instead focusing on present things.

There's Effie sitting with Octavia, Flavius, and Venia in the front row. They're all smiling like someone gave them good news. I offer them a timid wave. One row behind them, Paylor, Betee, Thom and Plutarch sit. The rows of people continue. Among the familiar faces I spot Hazel and even Delly Cartwright, who looks happy enough to burst. She gives a squeal when she sees my dress.

Mom wasn't able to come, apparently. It doesn't bother me.

I realize the music is the melody to The Hanging Tree. A favorite song of my father's. It's weird and fulfilling all at the same time. I bet he's here, too.

I've never given much thought to spirits, or Heaven, but something of the sort must exist for Prim and my dad. They were so pure…so good. Like Angels.

I struggle to blink back tears. It's even harder when I catch sight of Peeta. He's smiling broadly, holding his arms out to me. I look at Haymitch and he just nods, loosening his hold on my arm. I rush forward and lay my head against Peeta's chest.

"You look…just breathtaking, Katniss," he whispers into my hair.

I sniff. "Thank Flavius, Octavia, and Venia for that."

He puts his finger under my chin and gently tilts my head up. "No, it's all you. You've always been beautiful to me."

I wish I could say the same to him, but it would be lying. Before the Games, I didn't even notice Peeta Mellark. He was just the boy with the bread. Untouchable. But I owed him, even then, and so much more now. Yet he keeps giving me things. All of himself. His kisses. His love. I've taken countless stabs at his heart, yet he's done his best to preserve mine.

"We're here today to celebrate the union of Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen," Thom says, standing up. We decided that he would act as our unofficial preacher, seeing as we don't have one. "Peeta, will you please recite your vows?"

Peeta turns to me, smiling. Slowly, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring. But it's not my engagement ring. It's silver and it sparkles with a gorgeous diamond.

"Oh…" I gasp, as he slides it onto my finger. "Peeta, you-"

He silences me with a finger to my lips. "Katniss, before you argue with me, I wanted to. You deserve something pretty." He touches the back of my hand. "I hope you like it. I know you don't usually care for jewelry."

On the contrary, I love it. It's the prettiest thing I've ever owned, and it came from Peeta, which makes it even better.

"It's perfect," I say simply, and he smiles.

Thom, who has been watching the exchange with teary eyes, clears his throat.

"Um…Peeta? The vows?"

"Right!" Peeta exclaims. He takes a deep breath and catches my face in his hands, staring into my eyes. "Katniss. You've always said that I'm good with words. But this time, instead of going on and on about how much you mean to me and making it into a big ordeal, I'm keeping it short. I. Love. You. You are everything to me."

It feels like it's just me and him, when he says that. I grab his wrists, securing his hands to me. "Don't leave me, Peeta."

"I won't," he says.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Katniss?" Thom reminds me.

I sigh, stepping away from Peeta. I don't have a ring for him, but we already agreed that he wouldn't wear one.

"Peeta, I'm going to cherish every second from this day forward with you. I've learned not to take things for granted. In a world so unstable, the most I can hope for is that you stay with me. And so far, you have, even though I didn't deserve it at times. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize I loved you, but I know now. I love you, Peeta."

"Let's move onto the toasting," Thom instructs, clapping his hands together. Someone has started a fire in the hearth. Peeta and I go to stand next to each other, facing the fire, while Peeta cuts a bit of bread for both of us. I watch his face the whole time. He's smiling, yet focused. A little knot of excitement twists in my stomach.

Peeta hands me my bread. I skewer it on a stick. At the same time, we both hold the pieces into the flame.

His hand finds mine and squeezes once, twice. My face is burning from the heat of the fire but I don't want to turn around, as I'm painfully aware of the crowd watching us. At last, Peeta pulls his bread back. I'm quick to follow. The pieces are burnt in places, undone in others, unevenly toasted. But I don't care.

"Please face each other," Thom says solemnly.

Peeta and I do so. We look into each others' eyes. With determined movements, we both hold the bread to our lips.

It's hot and delicious. I chew and swallow, repeating the pattern several times until my hand is empty. For good measure, I lick the crumbs from my fingers.

I look at Peeta to see he is already finished. So that's it. We're married.

My name is Katniss Mellark.

"You may kiss your bride," Thom hints, as we are still standing there staring at each other. I open my mouth to say something-maybe to point out that people are watching us-but Peeta's hand finds the back of my neck and he secures my face to his.

His lips are warm from the bread, and his hand is hot as it snakes around my waist, holding me to him. People begin to clap, some even wolf-whistle, as the kiss continues. I don't want to break away, though. He is my husband. He is mine. No one, not even the most beautiful person in the world, can take him from me.

"Okay, okay," Thom says, laughing as everyone converges upon us. We are forced to pull away, but Peeta's eyes say it all: _Later_. I find I can't wait until later.

"Effie," I say, pulling the bubbly woman into my arms. "Thank you. The primroses are…just gorgeous. It's more than I could've hoped for."

She holds me close. "I knew you'd want her here, Katniss."

I nod, smiling with ease. Which is weird, since we're discussing Prim.

"I do," I mumble at last. "I can feel her, too, thanks to you."

Effie pulls away. "In case you ever have any doubts, what you did that day at the reaping was right. She wouldn't have lasted in the Games. She was too pure. Thanks to you, she had extra time to enjoy life."

I can't agree with her, not yet, but that's okay. Maybe some day I will.

"Katniss?" Peeta asks, slipping an arm around my shoulder. "Greasy Sae says it's time to eat. But I want to show you something first."

"Okay," I agree with confusion, wrinkling my forehead. Peeta pulls me from the throng of people, outside, toward his house.

We go into the kitchen and I wonder what he's doing before he turns and kisses me. I respond instantly, winding my arms around his neck, pulling myself to him. I close my eyes, savoring the moment.

"We should go back," he says after seconds, minutes, hours, days. I lose track of time entirely when he's with me like this. If it wasn't so enjoyable, it'd be highly embarrassing.

"Right," I chide myself, stepping away. "We have a wedding to get back to." My stomach growls and I laugh. "Plus, I'm starving."

"Me too," he agrees with a whisper, as he leads me out the front door.

Back inside, the piano player has chosen a more festive tune as people serve themselves and then stand around, chatting lightly, eating various foods.

Peeta and I get bowls of chowder. Somehow I also manage to snatch a blueberry pastry from the tray set up on the dessert table, though it's almost empty. The wedding cake, grand and beautiful with five tiers, is some of Peeta's finest work. I tell him so and he mumbles a modest thank you.

Haymitch sits on my right, Peeta on my left, as we take our seats at the "honors" table. People surround us, exclaiming over the richness of the food and the prettiness of my dress. I smile at all of them, chatting easily between spoonfuls of the delicious chowder.

When my hunger is quenched, it's time for the cake. Peeta insist that we cut the first slice as husband and wife, and I don't argue. I go to grab the knife, and his arm reaches out around me so his warm hand can cover mine. My heart speeds up at just _that_ simple touch.

"Now," Peeta says as we slide the cake slice onto a plate. "We have to feed each other. Deal?"

"Deal," I say, as he hands me my portion of the cake. I hold it out and we count down from three.

I let out a loud laugh as I shove the cake directly on his face. He looks aghast for a moment before he smiles and licks the frosting from his cheeks.

"Don't forget your slice!" He chants, as I'm laughing so hard I don't notice I have yet to be fed mine. The next thing I know, my eyes are covered in chocolate. Crumbs fill my nose. I sputter around the dessert and start laughing all over again.

"Mmm," Peeta says, swiping his finger across my cheek and putting some of the cake into his mouth. "It's _delicious_."

I elbow him playfully. In response, he kisses me.

It's going to be a good night.


	11. The Party and Some Conversations

Hello! :D

So here's another update. This chapter flowed much easier than the last. The dialogue was fairly easy to write. For some reason, conversations always seem to go fast for me. Oh and here's some good news: I am now up to 22,241 words! Eek! It's so insanely exciting. I hope by the time I'm done with this I'll be around forty-thousand, maybe more. That's a pretty good length for a fanfic, if you ask me.

The reviews...I just love them! :) Thank you anyone who is reading this, and those who take time to type out a quick note. Ahh! It's so cool to be up to 43 reviews. As I said, I wasn't sure I'd get any reads on this story, much less FORTY. Just...thank you!

Let me know what you think!

-Homey ;)

P.S. HUNGER GAMES IN FIVE DAYS. AHHH! So far, the critics seem to think it's REALLY good, especially the acting! I saw 4/5 starts and a 9/10. That's pretty good if you ask me.

P.P.S. Oh-new song I love! "Someone That I Used to Know" by Gotye. Wow, just, wow.

P.P.P.S. Something is wrong with the chapter-not uploading-so if you tried to read it before and just are now able to...that is why.

**Disclaimer:** All these characters and settings belong to Suzanne Collins.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

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><p>I told Effie I didn't want to have a first dance. I said so firmly. I told her if she did arrange a first dance, I would have to find some cruel and unusual form of punishment to practice on her. She did not heed this warning.<p>

As Peeta and I sit at our table, talking to Annie about her new son-Trevor-the music abruptly changes. Effie bounds to the center of the crowded room, holding a microphone. My jaw drops as I realize what she is about to do.

"It's time for the first dance!" She chirps. Our guests begin to clap. The ones who know me well shoot us sorry smiles.

"Did you plan this?" Peeta whispers as he pulls me to my feet.

I suck in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Not at all."

Effie winks at me as she breezes past, leaving us stranded in the center of the floor. It's a good thing she's out of my reach, because I am hugely tempted to rip her hair out.

"You'd think," I say with gritted teeth as Peeta puts his hands on my waist, "after suffering through so many unpleasant ordeals, I'd never have to do something I didn't want to again."

"Yeah, but that's not realistic," Peeta reminds me, lowering his mouth to mine in a sizzling kiss. When he pulls away, he's smiling. "Now, is this so bad?"

"No," I grumble, but we're swaying from side-to-side at the moment. That's safe. Predictable. Boring. If the movies got any more complicated, I'd be stepping on Peeta's toes left and right.

The moves _do_ get more complicated, about forty-five seconds later. The music speeds up into some kind of dance-to song I've never heard before. Though I like singing and I keep good rhythm, this is a whole other ordeal. Peeta, however, creates a complicated pattern of his own. One step forward, three to the side, twist foot to the right, twist food to the left, swing me around, step back. Ugh.

I struggle to keep up with him, occasionally falling out of step. After a couple minutes of this, I finally get the hang of it. I even start adding in my own moves right before the song ends. The first dance is over.

I'm laughing and smiling as Effie comes over to put her arm around my waist.

"Now, come, Katniss. Was that not fun?"

"It was horrible!" I say through a giggle. I turn to Effie. "It's probably best if you avoid me for the rest of the party."

She rolls her eyes. "No need to be dramatic, Katniss. First dances are completely _mandatory_ for weddings."

I dig my nails into her arm and she steps away, looking at me like I've grown a second head.

"You know what?" She says brusquely, frowning at me, "I'm going to go dance with Haymitch until you decide to be kind enough to thank me."

As she trots off I shout a garbled, "Thanks!" in her direction. Just for good measure. I start to laugh when I see her clench her fists angrily.

"Katniss has gone and upset Effie," Octavia jokes, coming up behind me. "The universe is now unbalanced."

"Extremely," I lament. I turn and throw my arms around her.

"My dress is gorgeous, the food is amazing…thank you for being here."

Octavia pats my head condescendingly. "I'm just glad you decided to have a real wedding. If you ask me, getting married with just a toasting is extremely hick-y!"

My mouth twitches as I struggle not to laugh. Yup, Octavia. And green skin with creepy outfits is not hillbilly at all.

When I turn around, I find Annie talking to Peeta again. She's holding up a picture. Upon closer inspection, I find it to be Trevor. For a moment, I just stare. Because it's not a little boy staring at the camera but Finnick Odair himself, right down to the gorgeous green eyes and smirking smile.

"He's so handsome," I say after a long pause.

Annie smiles, wiping a tear from her eye. "Thank you. I don't think I've shown Greasy Sae yet. Oh, Sae?"

As Annie meanders off, Peeta turns to me.

"He really looks like Finnick, eh?"

I nod my consent. "He does. I'm so glad Annie has him."

Peeta kisses the top of my head. "Hopefully it won't be long before we have some kids of our own."

My blood goes cold. A moment ago, I had been happy and cheerful. Now I'm blank and unsmiling as my mind tries to comprehend Peeta's words.

Kids? Never. I'd already decided long ago I would not be bringing any babies into this world. But if Peeta wants them, Peeta who I am in debt to, who am I to refuse him? We're husband and wife, right? So I need to give him what he wants. But I don't want kids. Not now, not ever. But I-

"Katniss?" Peeta says when he realizes I have yet to speak. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," I squeak. "Why would something be wrong?"

"It wouldn't, you just got quiet after-"

"Oh, look, it's Beetee!"

I pull away from Peeta and power-jog over to where Beetee sits in his wheelchair, sipping at some sort of cocktail.

"Hi, Beetee," I say, taking a seat beside him on one of the stray chairs positioned strategically around the room. My heart is racing, and I struggle to calm it

He looks over at me and grins. "Hi Katniss. Great wedding."

"Thanks."

He glances over at the floor where people are now dancing. "Wish I could be doing some of that."

I sigh. "Please, I'd love for you to take my place."

"I'd want to take that back if I were you," he advises. "After a while without working legs, you feel kind of useless."

"Can't the Capitol operate on you?"

He shakes his head. "There's not enough money. And anyways, they'd have to do a double amputation in order to replace my legs. I don't want that."

I smile sadly at him. "Well, I don't blame you."

After a long moment, he pats my hand. "I'm proud of you, Katniss. You've come a long way since everything happened. And look what you've established here: a home, a family, a future. It's more than I will ever hope of having."

Beetee doesn't even sound sorry himself, which makes the statement so much worse. It reminds me of the first Hunger Games, before I even knew Peeta, before I was Katniss Mellark. He himself said that he had no chance of winning. And even with death knocking at his door, he didn't sound sad. He sounded…at peace. Like Beetee seems right now. But am I at peace?

I really don't know.

"Well, it's not all it's cracked up to be," I reassure him, slouching down in my chair. "Peeta is the best part of all this. The décor, the dress, the food…it's all appreciated, but it's not _me_."

"I always find doing things for others pleases me," Beetee muses. "For instance, telling stories. I have two nephews that love them. I hate to tell them, but just doing it and see their faces light up gives me such a fulfilling sensation."

"You're a people pleaser," I point out, kind of proud myself for figuring that one out.

"So are you."

Before I can protest, or even point out that I'm anything _but_ a people pleaser, as I've let so many others down, Haymitch comes and whisks me out onto the dance floor.

"What are you doing?" I demand, but I'm laughing.

Haymitch rolls his eyes. "Effie threatened my life if I didn't dance with you. She also insists there's something called "father-daughter" dances in the Capitol. I assured her I would never want you to be my offspring, but she still made me."

"That's Effie for you," I say simply.

Haymitch growls a garbled reply.

We end up having fun, us two. We continue our dance through three songs, the steps getting funkier and funkier each time. By the time Peeta finds his way back to me, I'm clucking like a chicken and my joints are stiff.

"Would you like to come sit?" He asks softly, taking my hand. I allow him to lead me over to a table where he pulls me into his lap. I don't protest.

"Earlier," Peeta says after a short pause. "What was that about?"

I can tell the wheels in his head have been turning over this matter for a long while. Maybe he's even figured it out.

"That was…nothing."

"Katniss," he says in that familiar reprimanding tone of his. "We're husband and wife now. We do not keep secrets anymore. Please. If you don't tell me, I'll think it's something I did."

I sigh. "Peeta, believe me, it's _nothing_ about you. It's…it's me."

"Well?" He prods after a moment of silence.

I groan and bury my face in his chest. "It's about something I can't give you."

He furrows his eyebrows before finally saying, "Something that you _can't_, or something that you_ won't_?"

"A little bit of both, I guess," I admit in a very small voice.

"Ah," he says. "I see."

I swear I can _feel_ his heart sink. There is goes, down, down…broken yet again, dreams crushed, before he's even had a chance to hope.

"So I guess you know what we're talking about."

"Kids," he clarifies in a flat monotone. "We can't have…"

I struggle to keep from crying. "Peeta, please, try to understand."

"But why?" he demands, looking at me. "I promise I'd protect them."

"Oh, Peeta," I whisper. "It's not that, I promise. I _know_ you can protect them. It's just that I _can't_. I'm not strong like you. I could never bring a child into this world, even knowing that he or she might have a future."

His arms tighten around me. "Not even if I was the dad?"

"Not even then," I admit in a broken voice.

He sits there for some time, cradling me in his arms, before he says in an oddly cheerful voice: "Okay."

"Okay? That's it?"

He smiles down at me. "I understand if you want to wait a while, Katniss."

"Peeta, no-"

He presses his lips to mine briefly, pulling away barely a second later. "I know you meant never. But I'm still going to try my very best to convince you."

"It's not going to work," I say sternly.

One more kiss. "Well, I happen to be good with words."

And just like that, I feel okay again. Peeta pulls me to my feet and we march off to talk to the other guests. For now, this 'children' matter is forgotten.

I make my rounds, taking my time with each of the guests, thanking them and chatting about their lives. How are their kids? Their jobs? Their futures? I'm surprised that most of them seem relatively happy. We've come a long way since the bleak days of Snow.

Eventually I'm forced to speak to Hazel. She stands at the back of the room, holding a drink, looking very alone. Nonchalantly, I come to stand beside her.

"This was a great wedding," she says at last.

"You think so? Thanks."

She turns to me, opening her mouth to say something, then clamps it shut. "I hope you know that I'm happy for you. Even though you and Gale…"

I'm shaking my head before she could finish.

"I'm sorry, Hazel, but there was never a future for us. The only reason we became friends was because we were on common ground. After the war, things changed."

"But isn't that why you're with Peeta?" She challenges. "You two are on _common ground_. You're both scarred and vulnerable."

"But the difference is that I love him," I say sharply. Hazel recoils.

"You know, I think I'd better be going," she says at last. I watch as she tosses her cup in a trashcan and heads for the door. She turns around once before leaving.

"Be very careful of what choices you make, Katniss," she says. "You wouldn't want fate to come back biting."

I flinch as she slams the door behind her. Her dramatic exit goes unnoticed by most of the crowd, except for the attentive Effie, Haymitch, and Peeta. They all congregate around me, asking if I'm okay and what did she say?

I force a smile. "Oh guys, it's nothing. She's just a case of sour grapes."

After some consoling they finally drift away. Well, all except Peeta. He looks at me with knowing eyes and frowns.

"It was about Gale, wasn't it?"

I roll my eyes theatrically. "He never seems to leave me alone."

But Peeta sees right through my façade. So that's why, when he offers his arms, I go rushing into them.

It's the best place to be.


	12. A Little Bit of This Among Much Teasing

Hi Guys! :)

So here's another chapter for ya! Thanks for all the reviews on the last one. (I think there were seven or eight-crazy!)

So, this chapter is definitely rated T-but there's certainly nothing explicit/detailed. In fact, I kinda pull a "Stephenie Meyer" on you and don't show any 'bad' scenes. Which would be weird, anyways, since that always creeps me out when people write like that. It's kind of like, "_Hey! Let me put in as MUCH gory detail as I can and make it rated 'M'_!" Nu-uh. And no offense intended to anyone who DOES write those kind of scenes, I'm sure you handle it in a classy way-I'm just referring to the countless fanfics I've read on here that are just. plain. gross. Basically, the kind where there is no other point/plot to the story than the nasty scenes. And those kind of fanfics are so unlike Katniss and Peeta. I try to follow the author's standards when writing a fanfic, and I'm sure Suzanne Collins would NOT have written anything like that. So I'm keeping it strictly rated T! :)

Enjoy! Thoughts? Critiques? Hopefully the above paragraph didn't sound mean. I just wanted to give you a little "backstory" so you wouldn't be surprised by this chapter and you wouldn't think, "Well, what happened?" when I skipped around.

Thanks!

-Homey :)

P.S. Wanted to add that I've hit FIFTY reviews! OMW! (Oh my Word...hehe). This is shocking. Thank you thank you thank you!

**Disclaimer:** Every character in this chapter belongs to Suzanne Collins, as do the settings.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

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><p>The 'reception' (at least what Effie called it) continues well into the afternoon, with guests finally leaving around seven. I'm exhausted by the time the last guest leaves-Johanna-and I sink into the couch.<p>

"Do you want us to stay and help pick up?" Venia asks, her high heels clicking as she comes to stand in front of me.

I wave my hand dismissively. "We'll take care of it tomorrow."

"Okay," she agrees, bending over to kiss my cheek. "I had a great time, Katniss. Thank you. We'll see you in the morning!"

She, Flavius, and Octavia are out the door less than a second later, leaving Effie behind. The woman appears a moment later, though, wrapped in a coat that appears to be made of fish eyes.

"It went so smoothly!" Effie squeals as she bends over to hug me.

I squeeze her back. "It did. Thanks, by the way. You all went above and beyond."

"Oh, Katniss," she says, straightening into a standing position. "It was nothing. Really, you and Peeta were exceptional."

"Thanks," I say lightly, then let out a groan. "I ache all over. Seriously, that's the most I've ever danced."

Effie giggles. "It was still fun! By the way…" She leans closer, as if to whisper, but her voice still comes out at normal volume. "Are you sure about the lingerie? I'd be happy to give you some!"

My mouth drops in horror, but not because of the question. It's mainly due to the face that Peeta is standing in the doorway, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"N-no!" I exclaim, standing up. "I already told them, no thank you!"

Effie narrows her eyes at me and sighs as if I've personally done something to upset her. "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. Let me know if you change your mind!"

With that, she hurries from the room, obviously wanting to get away from good ole' deranged me as quickly as she can. The door clicks shut behind her, and then Peeta and I face each other.

He starts laughing, doing that hiccupping thing of his. I purse my lips.

"That's not funny Peeta!"

"It's hilarious!" He argues. "Your face was priceless."

"I'm glad I'm so amusing!" I snap.

His eyes soften. "Katniss, please. You know it's not that. I'm embarrassed about that, too."

"About what?"

His face goes red and he swallows heavily.

"Us…doing….things."

I grin, knowing very well what he means, yet feigning innocence. The perfect form of payback, Katniss-style.

"No, Peeta," I say in my best little-girl voice, stepping forward. I blink my eyes at him. "I'm afraid I just am lost when it comes to what you're saying."

His eyes dart down, then up at me. "Please don't make me say it."

"Say what?"

"The word."

"What word?"

"The-" He stops and gulps.

"You mean this?" I say softly, stepping forward. I stretch up on my toes to press my mouth to his.

He responds instantly, wrapping his hands around my waist and lifting me up. I dangle in the air for a second before wrapping my legs around his waist. It's uncomfortable, due to the general pain that dancing has caused me, but the heat I feel pricking my skin drowns out all other feelings.

His lips find a trail from my jaw, down my neck, to the tip of my shoulder. He repeats this pattern several times before I huff angrily, getting bored.

"C'mon Peeta," I tease as I untangle myself from him and step away. "Is that all you got? If so I may just have to go-"

But before I can finish I'm in his arms again, he's whisked me up the stairs, and the only thing on my mind is happiness. And since this feeling is few and far between for me, I give into it, letting myself be.

It's pretty nice, too.

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><p>When I wake up, sunlight is streaming through my windows. I raise my head slightly, taking in Peeta's head just a few inches from mine. His eyelashes are golden, brushing his cheekbones as his eyes are closed. I reach forward and touch his eyelids.<p>

He whispers something and rolls over, facing away from me. I wish he would turn back around so I could look at him. It physically _hurts_ to not see him.

"Peeta?" I whisper.

He mumbles something in reply.

"Peeta?" I ask, a bit louder.

Nothing.

"Peeta?" When there's no response, I press my lips to his throat.

His eyes dart open and he rolls on his back to look at me. We exchange timid, embarrassed smiles, much like we did the first time.

"So," he says, after a long pause. "Last night was…interesting."

"Interesting," I agree. I bite my lip.

He grins. "Very interesting."

Oh, good Lord.

My face is bright red as I roll away from him, standing up, holding my pillow to my chest. He rolls his eyes as I back into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. Once inside, I breathe easy.

I take a long shower, washing the last bits of the wedding reception off of me. There goes Beetee, down the drain…followed by Hazel…but that stupid children-thing- it's still there, nagging me.

I have just enough time to step out of the warm spray and wrap my towel around myself before Peeta knocks.

"Katniss? Can I come in?"

Seriously? Just because he's seen me naked twice, he thinks he can barge in whenever he pleases? No way.

"Not just yet…I need my clothes."

"Then come get them!"

"Peeta!"

"Oh, _c'mon_," he groans. "Don't pull all that modesty stuff on me."

"Peeta, just hand me my clothes!"

"Fine," he grumbles. I hear my drawers open and close and a moment later he knocks. "I have them."

I crack the door and reach my arm out, feeling for the clothes. But there are none. Before I can comprehend anything he grabs my wrist and yanks me out, sending me backward onto the bed. I lose my towel in the process, so by the time I land, I am wearing absolutely nothing.

"Gah!" I gasp, fumbling for my towel. Peeta steps, down on it, though, before I can even grab it. So here I am, exposed, unable to do anything about it.

"Well?" He asks, after a moment.

I glare at him and pull the bed sheet up around me, sticking my tongue out at him childishly. It's something I've always wanted to do and I figure now, being a grown, married woman and all, it's perfectly acceptable.

He laughs. "Only you, Katniss. Only you would act that way."

Yeah, sure. While you're in boxer shorts I'm wearing a sheet. So fair.

"I'm seriously reconsidering this marriage thing!" I threaten him.

He steps closer to me, folding his arms across his chest. "Is that so?"

"Um…yes," I squeak, as he leans down so his face hovers an inch from mine.

"Are you _sure_ about that, Katniss?"

His lips are even closer now, more so than before.

"Certain," I whisper.

He leans forward to kiss me but I roll away, off the bed, before he can. Standing up, I shoot him an apologetic look and go charging down the stairs, three at a time. I hear him laughing upstairs and then the sound of water as the shower is turned on.

I still have the sheet around me. I frantically dig through a laundry basket downstairs, emerging with only an sweater and jeans. It's way too warm for that, though, but I pull them on anyway. Underwear will have to wait until later, when I'm alone and Peeta isn't in a weird mood.

The only upside I can find about this awkward situation is that there are no cameras to track our every move. That would be the deal breaker for me, right there.

When Peeta comes down about five minutes later, I keep my eyes trained on the floor and sip daintily at my tea. He sinks down into the couch beside me, with a cup of his own, reading some sort of book. The house is still in disarray, I notice, as I look up. I wonder what time Effie will be here to help clean up.

"Katniss?" Peeta asks after a moment.

"What?" I ask, keeping my eyes down.

He sighs. "I'm really sorry. I was just teasing you."

"Well, I don't like being teased!"

He touches my cheek. "Look, this is as new for me as it is for you, but we'll get used to it eventually. We already know everything about each other-what's left?"

And then I start laughing, just like that. His words bring me back to a time so long ago, before the Quarter Quell, when Johanna stripped down, Finnick tried to seduce me while wearing a fishnet, and Haymitch's old friend kissed me square on the lips.

Peeta had pointed out to me it was more or less because I was a prude, although he used the word "pure", I believe. Just that quiet conversation in the elevator beings back so many memories-and most of them are good.

He doesn't ask why I'm giggling, just slings a comforting arm around me. I lean against his chest, sighing.

"We are an odd pair," I say at last.

He kisses the top of my head. "I will be the first to agree."

"So far, we've only been married one day and we've already gotten into an argument…kind of."

"Things could be much worse, though."

"I suppose they could."


	13. Reflection

Hi Guys!

This is a REALLY short chapter-just warning you! This is mainly a bird's-eye-view of Katniss's new life with Peeta. In chapter fourteen, things pick back up. And believe me, I owe you guys a HUGE chapter. (I'm thinking it'll be about six pages? My norm is 3-4) And the reviews, .wow. Just...thank you SO much! Oh, and if you noticed, I skipped a day. :P I was definitely busy yesterday. haha. So, I'm sorry! And I promise, TOMORROW you will get a HUGE chapter. :)

Anyways, I love reviews! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!

-Homey :)

**Disclaimer: **ALL Suzanne Collin's characters.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

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><p>The weeks begin to pass with alarming velocity. My days are more easily occupied, my time better spent, my hunger (both kinds) easily quenched. Peeta and I are different. This marriage is foreign to me, and to him, so we work through it together. I've never been at liberty to kiss him when I want to, no reservations, to be able to talk about grown-up things together. I'm nineteen, but I'm in love, and that's more than I could have hoped to ask for.<p>

Gradually, people begin to give us space. Mom quits calling as often (she did after the wedding, apologizing and explaining she had to work) for which I am glad. She's not really mine anymore. I've tried my best to be connected to her, but it's impossible. We're both stubborn when it comes to relationships. I guess we're alike in that way, if not in anything else.

Even I don't see Haymitch as much as I used to. He stops coming over to our house entirely, telling us he's not feeling well. I know he's lying, but whatever. The more time I have to spend with Peeta, the happier I am.

Gradually, my modesty declines, until I can comfortably dress in front of him, take a shower, wash my face, brush my teeth…this is another upside. And these things aren't of the hunger nature, just of a husband-and-wife one. It's surprisingly pleasant.

His warm hand on my waist, my shoulder, my face…his lips pressed against mine, they all still send my heart racing. Some of these with new fervor, because yes he's mine and I can do whatever, _whenever_ with him. So basically, I'm about as possessive as someone can get. I scare even myself.

Then there's the baby thing, which after about a week, Peeta starts hinting at everyday. It's, _Oh, wasn't Annie's little Trevor just the best thing?_ So on and so forth. But I have no plans to budge. We're still too young to even think about babies, and the fact is, I will never be ready.

"Peeta, please!" I exclaim during one of our rare fights. "Just stop talking about it! You're making me feel guilty."

And then he looks at me with those eyes of his, and they so unbearably sad. "Think about it, Katniss. That's all I'm asking you."

"No!" I say so sharply, and so coldly, he flinches. "If you wanted children so bad you should have found another wife."

And, with that, I stomp out the front door and into the woods, grabbing my bow and arrow along the way.

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><p>Dreams of Prim still come back to haunt me, but even nightmares can't troop my happiness. Eventually, they become less horrifying-and much shorter. Peeta still has his moments, though. Eventually <em>he's<em> the one needing Dr. Aurelius, and I am dismissed from his care. The call comes on a bleak, rainy afternoon.

"Peeta had an episode last night," I say, holding my husband close.

He asks me to put him on speakerphone, so I do.

"Most likely," he begins in a grave voice, "Peeta will never fully recover from the hallucinations. He'll have them throughout his life."

"So there's nothing we can do?" I ask, feeling helpless.

His answer is so final, so haunting, "No."

Peeta and I cry it out, holding each other through the night. In the morning, we lift our tear-streaked faces and smile.

"Katniss," he whispers, stroking my face. "I am going to do my very best to fight it. I will never lay a finger on you, or say a mean word. I'll make myself better."

"You're already perfect," I assure him.

Then there's also the supposed "You two now have your happily ever after", which I get on a daily basis. If not through words, it's a look. People suppose they understand everything about us, but they don't. They don't know _anything_.

The thing is, I did not get my happy ending. If I did, I would have Prim, I wouldn't have been entered in the games, my dad would be alive…but I can't bring him back, I can't change the way things happened. But I can change the _present_, and that all comes down to me. I have to wake up each morning and be, if not happy, glad. Thankful. For Peeta and health and Haymitch.

So no, I didn't get a happy ending-but I get _an _ending. Finnick didn't. Prim didn't. But I will. I have my husband and my marriage and my life. Besides, it's not really time for me to end yet.

Basically, life is boring. And I find that I like it that way.


	14. And When You Feel Alone, He is There

Hi Guys!

Let me just begin by saying...OH. MY. WORD. The reviews. Wow! I am shocked and surprised and so grateful for such sweet words of encouragement! I love reviews, and they really motivate me to keep writing. So, thank you. To everyone who is reading, adding my story to their favorites, their story alerts, and even adding me to their favorite authors. THAT is so amazing! Thank you!

Okay, so this chapter has LOTS of stuff in it, lots of banter, lots of silliness, lots of sadness, lots of drama, and lots of romance. I hope you enjoy it! This is my longest chapter ever (I believe) at SIX pages in word. (with some spacing, I'll admit.) But you guys definitely deserve it. Tomorrow's chapter is titled (hint, hint) "The Reveal." Which you will understand after reading this chapter.

Oh, and I'm gonna see The Hunger Games tomorrow! I'm so excited! I probably won't post until around 8, with maybe some feedback on the movie, too!

Enjoy! Thoughts? Thanks!

-Homey ;-)

**Disclaimer: **All of these amazing, brilliant characters belong to Suzanne Collins. I just happened to fall in love with them, so I wrote about it.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

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><p>I've found that mirrors are a great keeper of time.<p>

As the years fly by, some quickly, some slowly, all with Peeta, I see myself change. In my bedroom, as I put my hair up. There's an extra freckle that wasn't there before. Is that a winkle, or a scar? My hair is longer, then shorter, then longer again. My lips are chapped, smooth, slightly parted into a grin.

On our five-year anniversary, Peeta insists on taking me to the Capitol for some much needed "time away". We travel by train, holding hands and looking out windows while chatting. Somehow Peeta convinces the train staff to serve my favorite meal...a wonderful stew over rice with dried plums. I eat three platefuls, and by the time I'm done, my stomach is protruding.

"Ugh!" I groan, leaning back in my chair. "I'm so full."

Peeta grins at me and runs his hand lightly down my stomach. "That's a good look on you, Katniss."

It takes me awhile to realize what he means and my eyes darken. I stand up from the table, muttering profanities, and go stomping into the bathroom where I sit for a good fifteen minutes, silently fuming.

When at last I'm calm and go slide back into the booth across from Peeta, he smiles faintly and changes the subject. The child-thing is forgotten, for now.

* * *

><p>From then on, we celebrate our anniversary in the districts. First it's the Capitol, then One, Two, Three,-I skip Four because of Trevor-, Five, Six, Seven…on our tenth year together, Peeta finally convinces me to visit Annie. And hey, ten years seems quite an accomplishment, so I agree. Luckily, I'm twenty-nine, <em>much<em> too old for kids, and I'm pretty sure Peeta won't put up a fight.

No such luck.

Since Finnick's death, Annie has remarried, and now has a new, fresh-faced baby to call her own. Trevor is nine years old, an adorable, dimpled little boy who dotes over his younger sister. Annie tells us her name is Lily.

Peeta basically spends our whole visit holding the baby, cooing softly to her, even changing her diapers. Perhaps he's trying to set an example, or even show me that, yes, he _can_ handle a child. I don't even offer him a smile as reward.

And it's not that I don't want to be able to give him children, not really. I'm not that cold-hearted of a person (though a select few would disagree), and I love him. I just can't bring myself to do it. Since the Games, since everything, I've shied away from any type of self-harm. Having a baby would be very, very dangerous.

"Today was great," he says as he slides under the covers at a hotel that night.

I stand in front of the mirror, brushing my hair, refusing to answer him. Peeta senses this and comes up behind me, gently taking the brush from me, running it through each strand of my brown locks.

I stand, looking at us in the mirror, and I feel pride. What we've accomplished here, together, is amazing. Why would we need anything else?

But then I see my arms, and they're dreadfully empty. My stomach is painfully flat. Peeta's eyes are happy but dull. And I see what this is doing to him-to me. I may not want a baby, but he does. And his pain is my pain.

"Peeta?" I asked in a very high-pitched, un-Katniss-like voice.

"Hm?" He asks softly, running his hands through the ends of my hair. I turn to face him, swallowing heavily.

I reach out to grasp his shirt and notice my knuckles are white. Calm. Cool. Smooth. (not.) I wonder if he feels this every time _he_ has to ask me for something, and I feel even worse. We've got to-

"Katniss? You're pale. What's wrong?"

I can't meet his eyes, not possibly. My face burns with shame. How dare he practically have to grovel and me say no, yet here I am and I know, without a doubt, his answer will be a resounding yes. I can't. I can't.

"Oh, Mrs. Mellark?" He asks in a teasing tone, though I can still hear the worry under his lighthearted words. He tilts my chin up. "You can tell me anything."

"It's not so much tell," I say with measured words, "As-as ask."

"Okay. I'm game."

If the situation wasn't so pressing, if the room wasn't so tight and the air in my lungs in limited supply, I might laugh.

Or maybe not.

"Look," I say, grabbing his hand and gently guiding it to rest on my belly. He looks surprised, kind of confused, but he smiles.

"Does your stomach hurt or something?"

I actually grin. Peeta has a way of doing that to me-but right now I need to stay focused, because if for one second he acts _okay_, I know I'll back out.

"Look," I say again, but my throat is dry and I really can't talk. "If…if you could have anything in the world, anything at all, what would you want?"

His smile is still steady, his eyes on me. "I already have everything."

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. _Please_, do not pull that card on me.

"No, Peeta. I mean something you don't have."

He wrinkles his eyebrows, and his face abruptly smoothes out. "You won't like it, Katniss."

"Please, just tell me," I beg, hoping he'll say it. Of course he will.

"Fine, but-" He sighs, starting to step away, but I keep a firm grasp on his hand.

He looks down at the ground. "I'd want…I'd want everyone who's gone alive and me dead. I know that's unrealistic but-it still bothers me. If I had just eaten those ridiculous berries, none of anything would've happened."

I'm so surprised by his answer I drop his hand. "What?"

He shrugs. "I told you that you wouldn't like it."

I find myself smacking him once, sharply, on the shoulder. "Peeta, don't _ever say that. _Ever."

He frowns at me. "What was that for?"

"Don't say that! Okay? Don't!"

"But you'd be happier-"

"You still think I'd be happier with Prim here, with everyone? I miss them, Peeta, but this is real life-not a fairytale. I've got you. You're everything!"

He sighs. "You would have come home, and married Gale, and had kids-"

I'm shaking my head before he can finish. "No, I would not. I never wanted Gale, or kids, for that matter."

"I know that last part, Katniss."

And then I remember why I'm here, standing in front of him, asking him bizarre questions. Of course.

"I never said I didn't want kids," I whisper.

Peeta frowns. "You just did."

"Not with Gale," I agree. I grab his hand and hold it back up so his fingers lightly brush the skin of my stomach. "But I would-will-with you."

He blinks at me. Everything is silent for a long time before he laughs.

"Yeah, right. That's a cruel joke, Katniss."

"No! I'm not kidding!"

He rolls his eyes dramatically. I know he's trying to brush this off as unimportant, but I see them there, in his eyes, the hurt I've caused him.

"Really? When?"

"Right now," I say boldly, grabbing his face gently between my hands and stretching up on my toes to kiss him.

For a second he doesn't say anything, just kisses me back. I feel it on my skin, the pricks of hunger I've been waiting for all day.

"Wait-" He says under my mouth, which is becoming more desperate by the second.

"No!" I whine, then stop myself, grinning at my childishness.

"Think about this," Peeta says, pulling away. He stares into my eyes. "What if you get pregnant, Katniss? Tonight? Are you really ready for that?"

I open my mouth to assure him that, yes, I'm ready, but fear freezes me. What if he's right? What if that does happen? What if I wake up tomorrow and-

"I'm tired of what ifs," I say instead. "How about we try this: _Why not?" _

He seems to contemplate for a while before he at last says, "Why not?" and pulls me up to kiss him.

I respond instantly, pulling him as close as I can manage, and there we are again, just two people, happy and celebrating ten years.

Ten amazing years.

* * *

><p>I don't get pregnant.<p>

We try, and we try, and we try. We see doctors. We take tests. We even-and this is embarrassing-ask the Capitol if there's any surgeries that can fix this. Anything at all? And we always get a "No, I'm so sorry."

I feel like such a fake.

Peeta says it's okay, that we'll try, try again-and we do-but I can tell that it's hurting him. Each day that passes without a baby makes our house seem too big, our lives too empty. I find myself wanting this just as bad, but more for him than me.

I still don't like the idea of having a baby, but maybe one with Peeta won't be so bad. Maybe it'll even be good. But they tell me I might never know.

Finally, we summon Dr. A down to twelve, which he has avoided up until this point, but he agrees to see us. I think he feels bad about the situation, and anyways, I'm sure my assurance that the town is in fact booming brings him back.

And really, it is. The factory is cranking out dozens of medicines by the day, and we have more traffic than ever. Hospitals from all over Panem want _us_ to supply them with everything they need to save lives. For the first time in a long time, Twelve is making a difference.

When Dr. A comes, Peeta goes to pick him up at the station, and brings him back to the house. He runs all sorts of tests on me, some of which have already been done, others that are new yet just as invasive. He looks. He prods. He asks questions, even about more personal stuff that makes me blush. But Peeta is behind me, unashamed and answering readily. I watch his lips as he talks, just as a distraction. He still never fails to amaze me.

"I'll run these tests for you and get back to you in a week," Dr. Aurelius says, advising us to always pick up the phone because "I usually don't have time for more than one phone call."

From then on Peeta and I answer the phones like mad. We never stay on the line very long, explaining that we have an important call coming and we'll have to get back with whoever it is later. I skip a conversation with Mom, hurry through one with Annie, and rather rudely inform Effie I don't have time for her.

When at last the call we've been waiting for _does_ happen, I feel sick and anxious and worried. With shaky hands I hand the phone to Peeta.

"Oh," he says after a long moment. His face reveals no emotion. "Okay. I'll tell her. No, really, thank you. That's fine. Bye."

He hangs up the phone and turns to me, and then I know. I see the dead look in his eyes, the disappointed set to his jaw, his clenched fists.

"Katniss-" he begins, but I don't want to hear it.

I turn on my heel and begin running, out the front door, down the path to the woods. I haven't done this in a long time-run out on him-but I need to and I need to get away. I'm repulsed with myself.

The one thing-the one thing he wants so much in the world, and I can't give it to him. It's not like before, when I didn't want to. But I can't. I never will. I'm ruined, and broken, and I can't be fixed.

I curl up in a ball near the meadow, feeling sorry not for myself but Peeta. He shouldn't have to settle for me. I've thought it a million times but I mean it, now. I will go back to the house. I will be strong. I'll tell him if he needs to, he can leave me, and find someone else who will satisfy him. I'm sure there's another girl out there just waiting for a guy like him to come and sweep her off her feet. And if he says yes, well, then I'll just have to live with it.

I'm selfish enough to hope he doesn't.

He finds me, of course, after an hour or two. He comes up to me, crouches down, lays a timid hand on my hair.

"Katniss-"

"Don't say it," I whisper. "Please, Peeta."

"If you don't want me to," he says gently, "then I won't."

We sit together for the longest time, as he strokes my hair and whispers words I will always treasure but soon forget.

"Peeta," I find myself saying, feeling empty. "I can't give you children. I'm so, so sorry. And I understand, if you want someone else-"

Suddenly I'm on my back, he's on top of me, and my head is cradled in his hands and his lips are on my jaw.

"You still don't see it, do you, Katniss?"

"See what?" I ask breathlessly, my misery now a long-ago memory.

"That it's not a baby I want. It's a baby from _you_. And if I can't have that, then I don't care. Just you, Katniss, just you."

I laugh a little, because I was thinking the same thing about him.

"Good," I whisper, as he kisses my neck. "Because I was not ready to let you go."

He looks up at me and his blonde bangs fall fan forward to tickle my cheek. I run my hands through his hair. It's not long, but it's shaggy, and I like the way it feels in my fingers. With the advantage, I pull him down to kiss me.

"We won't stop trying," I promise him after a moment.

He sighs, grazing my collarbone with his nose. "Are you sure?"

I shrug. "Maybe we'll get a miracle."

He looks up at me, grinning. "Maybe."

"Hopefully."

He brushes his lips, ever so softly, against mine. "But, if not…"

"Then we'll be okay."

* * *

><p>So we try, and we try, and we try. Haymitch visits and we talk with him-he's doing better, better than he was, and drinking less. With the promise of a baby on the horizon, he's decided to stick around. I'm glad he has that motivation, and I can't bring myself to ruin that, too. So I let him think that we're just waiting for the right moment.<p>

Peeta is always there for me-to kiss me softly, to brush my hair, to assure me every hour that he loves me. I find I need the latter more than ever, even more than the hunger. I'd take those three words over that any day.

But I'm lucky, so I get both.

* * *

><p>Peeta has a hallucination one night, which is frightening. We're just laying there in bed, holding each other, talking about tomorrow and what it holds. And not in the literal sense, but about the future. It holds promise, even without children. Even-<p>

His palm is a sudden presence on my cheek, pushing my head roughly into my pillow. He breath his hot in my ear as he hisses evil words. But then he shudders and pulls away, leaning over. I rub my face.

This happening is so unexpected, so numbing, I can't talk for the longest time. At long last it's _him_ apologizing, comforting. It should be me.

"Katniss? I'm so sorry. Please-"

"Peeta," I roll over to look down at him. "It's fine. Okay?"

"I'm so sorry. I know I said-"

I'm shaking my head before he can finish. "You didn't hurt me, I swear." I grab his hand and hold it to my face, just to prove it. He stares at me for a long time before muttering something about me being perfect.

But I have to disagree.

He's the perfect one.

* * *

><p>Other than life generally being somewhat of a downer, things go back to normal. I cope. After a while, we accept that it will never happen, and we stop trying. We don't necessarily go to measures to prevent anything, but we no longer hope.<p>

As the years speed by, a realization creeps upon Haymitch and he knows he's never getting a "grandchild" of any sorts. He turns to drink. Sometimes, when things are really bad, I sit at his kitchen table and drink with him.

When these incidents happen, Peeta never chides me, just carries me home and lays me down on the bed. I close my eyes against the feel of his hand as he strokes my hair. He usually ends up holding it back for me when I throw up, too.

I start throwing up a lot. After meals, after alcohol, after bouts of anxiousness that keep me awake at night. I have lots of those. And though Peeta worries, I make him promise not to ask a Doctor about it. I just want to be left alone.

Peeta's at work one day, at the bakery, when I'm digging through the medicine cabinet for some sort of nausea reliever-ginger does the trick, and yes, we keep a glass container of it in the bathroom- but instead I stumble upon something else.

It's a good, old fashioned, pregnancy test. One left over from years ago.

I tell myself it's stupid, that I'm _not_ pregnant. I can't be. I've been drinking and eating too much, making myself sick, but I still take it out. Out of the cabinet. Out of the box. I follow the instructions, and set it on the counter, and leave the room. For five of the most nerve-wrecking moments of my life, I try to keep busy. I drink water, I struggle to read, I even resort to watering the primroses-which have come back every year in full bloom. Finally, after what's more like ten minutes, I head back up to the bathroom.

I force myself to walk slowly. I force myself to not hope.

I have the word NO, playing in my head, over and over, so much that when I see the result of the test my heart sinks. And then I see it. _Really_ see it.

And it says Yes.

* * *

><p><span>TRIVIA! <span>

Can anyone get all the answers right?

1) What did Peeta mean when he said, "That's a good look on you, Katniss." ?

2) By the end of this chapter, how many years have passed? (The actual _Mockingjay_ Epilogue has the answer.)

Okay, so technically, there are only TWO questions, but still.

Have fun! (hehe!)

-Homey ;-)

P.S. Wanted to add that ginger really DOES help nausea! It's really cool. But it's spicy, so don't eat too much! Blah. :P


	15. The Reveal

Hi Everyone!

86. Reviews. Wow. I'm just speechless! Do you think I can make it a hundred when I post this chapter? That would be SO COOL! Anyways, thanks so much for such nice reviews, words...everything! *hugs*

Okay, so, I saw it.

Yes, The Hunger Games.

And I'm not going to lie...

**IT WAS AMAZING!**

Okay, okay. But seriously, one of the best movies I've seen! The acting was superb, the way they handled the (many, many) deaths was brilliant. Little hints here and there of the brutality was just enough. The director has a neat style of camera work! It was shaky at times, hard to see things, but that made it more realistic. There was only *spoiler* ONE KISS between Katniss and Peeta. That's it. So I was a bit disappointed with that, since I believe there's two-or more-in the book. It was still superb, though. Rue's death was sad but well played, and well acted! My only complaint would be the fact that they added in a new phrase for Katniss: Da*n you!

^ Yes, you read that right! First Gale gets told that, then Peeta. The first time, I was like, "Oh-kay. Somehow had a bit too much fun writing this script. Wonder how Suzanne Collins let that one pass." The second time, my mom and I kind of just looked at each other and started laughing. In a movie theater. I know, I know. But it really took away from Jennifer Lawrence's performance. And not in a way that made it less believable, but she would be doing _so_ well, and conveying a lot of emotion, and then they added that in-and it just wasn't natural. And totally NOT Katniss. After all, that wasn't in the book.

Okay, I'm done now! That's my only criticism. About a 9/10, or maybe a 10/10! But fantastic! I want to see it again!

On another note, this chapter did not take me long to write (it's about five pages) and it was FUN! I hope you enjoy!

Feedback? I'd LOVE to make it to a hundred reviews, but never the less, even one more would be fantastic.

Thank you all!

-Homey :D

P.S. This is NOT the last chapter! I promise I'll give you guys fair warning before I end this. :) Oh, and wanted to add, ALL of you got the trivia right. A couple even gave all science-y answers. Haha. I don't know why I even thought that MIGHT be tricky. I need to come up with some more difficult questions. LOL!

**Disclaimer: **They're not mine, not from the books or the (amazing) movie, but I love these characters! They belong, along with all of Panem, to Suzanne Collins.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>I rush to the local store the minute I am able to fathom anything, grab several pregnancy tests and stuff them in my shirt. A little stealing won't hurt-especially since I don't want people to suspect anything. Not yet.<p>

Maybe it was defective. Yeah, that's it. The test has been sitting in my bathroom for five years. There's no way I can be pregnant.

I drink a ton of water when I get home, waiting anxiously for it to take course. When at last I have to go, I rush upstairs and pull out three of the new tests, take them, and leave them sitting on the bathroom counter.

Waiting is painful.

But I wait, and after another ten minutes, I rush back upstairs. The tests say it all. Positive. Positive. Positive. I'm pregnant.

There's a life inside me.

I sink to the floor in disbelief, head in my hands. I don't know how long I stay there but the sound of someone whistling seems to rouse me. It's Peeta. And in approximately thirty seconds he'll be inside, looking for me.

Quickly, I snatch the tests from the counter, along with the boxes, and sweep them into the bathroom trash. But there they sit on top, taunting me. I hear the door open downstairs and a click as it is shut. Then,

"Katniss?"

Without thinking, just moving, I bend back over and dig the tests out. I look at the trashcan. I could bury them further in, but what if Peeta empties it and-

No, I can't do that. He can't find out.

So I do the only thing I can think of, given my frantic state, and the fact that Peeta is clomping up the stairs.

I open the toilet lid, throw everything in, and flush it.

There is a gurgle and the water churns. Down goes the first test, two boxes-then everything stops moving, and my heart freezes. I bend over, retrieving the rest of the tests from the water with my bare hands, and very hastily throw it all out the window.

Just in time, too, because Peeta appears in the doorway.

"Katniss? I've been calling. What are you-" He trails off, noticing my frozen face, messy hair, and wet arms.

"I was…washing my hands," I lie, not meeting his eyes.

"Uh-huh, sure you were." He steps forward, grabs my wrist in his hands, and gingerly smells my fingers. "Is that…is that _toilet water_?"

I swallow. "Maybe."

"What were you _doing_?"

I shake my head. "Trying to unclog the toilet."

He laughs, stepping past me. "Why didn't you just say so? Let me-"

"NO!" I exclaim, so loud he flinches. He turns to look at me.

"Why not?"

"Because...it's…um, not pretty in there, and I'd rather handle it myself."

Did I really just say that? I did.

Peeta laughs, pulling me close to kiss my hair. "Well, okay, then. But, next time-" He points to the corner where a little wood-handled suction thing sits. "Use the plunger."

"Right," I say with a nervous laugh. "That kind of slipped my mind."

"And wash your hands," he reminds me as he walks from the room.

I breathe a sigh of relief, looking down at my stomach.

"We're going to stick this out, you and me," I say. "So live, please. For Peeta, and Prim, and Cinna, Finnick…everyone."

I'll tell Peeta in a while if the baby's still…here.

And I feel something inside me. It's a little flicker, a little flame. Vague, yet familiar. And then I realize.

It's hope.

* * *

><p>Against all the odds, I do wait. I keep my mouth closed even when I'm sure I'll burst, keep my hands steady when they want to shake. Each day, I take a test, and find that my baby's still with me. My baby. All mine.<p>

First I go through that doting, adoring mother stage. But it only lasts about a week before the fear sets in. And after that I can't keep my hands steady anymore, or my legs. I shiver, my teeth chatter, I throw up even more than before. But part of that may be due to morning sickness. I've heard that's normal.

I have nightmares, except in these the star is a faceless child. A flash of arm here, a full-lipped grin there, and then they're gone, ripped from my grasp before I've even really felt them.

I usually wake up screaming, and though Peeta looks concerned, I lie and say it's about Prim. Then that comfort usually turns into a kiss and well, I don't let much happen besides that. Which also seems to confuse Peeta.

"Katniss, is everything okay?" He asks one day, out of the blue.

I look up from my writing-I've been keeping a journal-and frown at him. "Yes, why wouldn't it be?"

He shrugs vaguely. "Just…nothing."

And then the silence returns, just us and the quiet which gives me too much time to think, which usually leads to thoughts of my baby which leads to shaky hands which leads to my head down in the toilet bowl. Very fun.

Haymitch comes over two weeks after I've known, for dinner, where he proceeds to drink four glasses of some kind of brown liquor. Looks strong, too, because when Peeta tries it he screws up his face in a puckered grimace.

"You've got to try this, Katniss," he says, shoving his glass at me.

I shake my head. "I'd rather…not."

He grins at me. "Scared?"

"Yup," I say, looking at the tablecloth. "Horrified."

Haymitch gives me a long look and then stands, grunting.

"I'd better get going. Katniss, want to walk me home?"

"Well, I thought-"

"That's fine," Peeta says, before I can protest. "I'll clean up."

I force a smile and turn to him, kissing his cheek. "Thanks."

Haymitch motions for me to follow him and then lumbers out the door, walking several yards in front of me.

I tread behind him silently before he turns and grins. A genuine smile.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?"

And who am I to tramp his happiness? "Yes."

He throws his head back and laughs, slaps his thigh. "Well, I'll be damned. I thought it'd never happen."

I narrow my eyes. "And why not?"

"Because of what Dr. Aurelius said, you idiot. That's why."

And the funny thing is, Haymitch says the words with such affection, I'm forced to smile. He reaches for me and I rush into his arms.

"I'm happy for you, Katniss, really."

"Thanks," I mumble.

He lets out a long sigh, pulling away. "I'm guessing you haven't told Peeta yet?"

I glance back at the house, where I can just make out my husband washing dishes through the window. His arms are sure and steady as he cleans plates. Loving.

"No," I admit at last, in a very small voice.

Haymitch turns and begins walking. This time, I follow him without protest.

"Figured as much," he says after a long while. We reach his door and he turns to me. "Look, that kid's hurting. You'll need to tell him eventually."

"I will," I promise.

Haymitch looks at me, really looks at me. "And not in nine months, when you go into labor."

"Two weeks, at most."

He seems satisfied with that and smiles. "That's fair enough. Anyway, thanks for dinner."

"Thank Peeta, not me."

He gives my stomach a fleeting look, as if it might have changed in the course of the past five minutes. "Oh, I think _that'll_ be thanks enough."

I stare after him as he goes inside and closes his door with a soft click.

Eventually, even though I'd like to stand there on the safety of his porch forever, I turn around and begin walking. Down the steps, back toward the house. Our house.

Peeta is there, of course, now on the couch in the living room. He beams when he sees me, beckoning to me with his arms.

"Come sit with me."

"Okay," I say in a small voice, curling up beside him. I lay my head on his chest.

We sit like that for several minutes, just watching the fire.

"I'm tired," I say at last. "Can we go to bed?"

Peeta looks at me, smiles, "Me too."

And so we go.

* * *

><p>Fourteen days is actually a very long time, if you're waiting for something. I try to keep busy with hunting, reading, and writing, but it's not much fun. I call mom and talk to her for a little while. I try to hold the news in, which I know will make her happy, and I end up biting my lip so hard it bleeds. But I keep the secret. Peeta should be the first-okay, second-to know. I just hope he's not mad Haymitch found out. It's not like I told him anyway. He guessed. Stupid, drunk Haymitch.<p>

And yes, I have mood swings. As if my emotions weren't unstable before, they're much worse now. I jabber on and on to Peeta about how amazing he is, even driving myself to the point of tears (happy ones), and then yell at him for getting flour on the floor. It's quite annoying and so unlike me that I know his alarm bells _must_ be going off. But he never says anything. He's too sweet for that.

And so I continue, a big, sloppy mess of tears and joy. The throwing up continues, but less frequently. I do realize I'm particularly sensitive to alcohol now-in any form. The smell on Haymitch's breath sends me reeling. Even the sight of it, all sloshy in clear bottles, makes me feel sick. Sometimes I do get sick from it.

I don't mind at all-it's better to hate it than like it.

Then come the cravings. It's like I'm getting hit with all the signs of pregnancy at once, and I wonder how Peeta doesn't suspect anything. First, it's carrots. For a whole day and a half I eat nothing except the orange fruit. All at once, a switch is flipped, and it disgusts me. I move onto squirrels, hunting like a madwoman. Three, sometimes four a day. Cooked into a stew, fried in a skillet-once, even cooked over a fire right there in the woods, because I was so hungry for it.

I can't be more than two or three months along, but already I feel…pregnant. Not in a physical sense, but definitely in the other ways women describe it. I suppose it's nice, not to have a bump or anything, because I'm sure that would send me into a frenzy. It's kind of like it's not even true, this way, when only Haymitch knows and doesn't talk about it. Maybe that's why I'm procrastinating when it comes to telling Peeta. Him knowing, being happy and hopeful, will make it more real. And I'm scared.

We crawl into bed one evening, with the windows open, and he winds his hand through mine. I turn my head to the side and close my eyes.

My heart is thudding in my chest, because I know. This feels so right, here with him, on this beautiful evening. I open my mouth but my throat is dry.

"P-Peeta?" I try after a long while.

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

Great. I've chickened out. After a while, his breathing gets slower, and I know he is on the brink of sleep. And I'm anything but.

I need to tell him. I've got to.

Okay. Here goes.

"I'm-"

No, not that way.

And then I hear his snoring. I've missed my opportunity.

"I'm pregnant," I whisper, just to myself, to see how it sounds.

His snoring quits. I hear the rustle of the sheets as he angles his body toward me. Oh, gosh. He wasn't asleep. He heard.

"Katniss?"

"Yes?" I ask innocently, turning toward him. His eyes are bright.

"Did you say-"

"Yeah."

"When? Why?"

I lick my lips. He's still giving me a strange look like-like he can't believe it.

"Well, why because you-er-_we_ wanted to. And _when_ is about two weeks ago."

His lips are trembling as he sits up and stares forward, trying to figure it out.

"Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped you!"

I sit up next to him, taking his hand. He doesn't look at me.

"Because, Peeta. I wanted to be sure-"

"And you're positive?"

"I've taken ten tests so, yes, I'm sure."

He turns and I see moisture in his eyes. That's weird. I wasn't expecting that. Why _are _his eyes watery? Is he mad? Is he-

Crying. Yes, Peeta is crying.

He leans over and presses his lips against mine. I pull away after a second, looking at him with confusion. With shaky hands, he lifts the bottom of my shirt up, planting a gentle kiss on my stomach.

Normally, I would hate this. It's so dramatic, so cheesy.

But, right now, it's everything I need.

"Peeta?" I ask softly.

He looks up, and a couple tears have escaped and are trailing down his face. I find my cheeks are stained with saltwater, too.

"Yes, Katniss?"

"Are you happy?"

He looks at me for a long time before lurching forward, gathering me in his arms and kissing me gently.

"So," he says, when we pull away. "So happy."


	16. Ducktail

Hi Guys!

*starts shrieking*

Not ONLY did I get to 100 reviews...I GOT TO 103! This is AMAZING. Thank you all SO much! Wow. I'm speechless, really. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I don't know what to say except: THANKS! (*hugs*)

I got my own Fiction Press account, by the way, if anyone wants to follow me there. Same name, "HomeschoolGirl" but it's a bit different so it may be a while before I post any original work. I actually have written books before, but fanfiction is a semi-new territory for me! So to be getting these kinds of reads...WOW!

For those of you who may have had difficulty reading the previous chapter "The Reveal", it's up and working now. I apologize for any inconveniences. Sometimes this site is a bit slow on me-especially if I catch a mistake and have to update. :P

In response to some comments regarding the movie:

YES! The cave scene was way too short. I think that was a critical part of the book. I wish they would have prolonged it, and thrown in that second kiss between Katniss and Peeta that happened when her head was bleeding. THAT was what I missed. And yes, he leg was HEALED in the movie. (!) Argh! At least, I think it was. Huh. But really, I loved it, other than those things. :) Oh, and I enjoyed the addition of Seneca Crane. But I didn't see Plutarch!

Once again, thank you all for reading. (wowwowwow!)

-Homey :D

P.S. I did some research for this chapter (pregnancy-wise) and I hope everything I threw in here was correct! If you notice something, please feel free to point it out. Seeing as I'm a teenager, I can not relate to any of this, so feel free to point out unrealistic things. :o)

**Disclaimer: **These characters are not mine, but a few addition to the plots are. :) And so is the dialogue. Otherwise, this belongs to Suzanne Collins!

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>Now that Peeta knows, he's more…attentive. And that's saying it kindly. Really, though, it's nice. How he asks me if I'm feeling well, voluntarily rubs my feet, makes me food at odd hours of the day. I tell him I'm okay, really. I've always been independent and to have someone taking care of me is…new, to say the least.<p>

After telling Peeta that, yes, Haymitch already knows-which he was okay with, I call mom. There's a long silence on her end before she can speak.

"That's…uh, wonderful, Katniss. What will you name her?"

"Her? Mom, it'll probably be a boy."

"Have you had an ultrasound?"

"Well, no, but-"

She clears her throat. I stop talking. This continues for several moments before she speaks. "Until then, it's a girl."

I can feel it. She wants a Prim. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl with full, angel-like features. I want to call her names for even hinting at that. There will _never_ be another Prim. But I just say goodbye and hang up.

Venia, Octavia, Flavius, and Effie are next on my list. The "styling team" (I believe I'll always refer to them as that) let out excited shrieks and proceed to congratulate to me. Effie just clicks her tongue is disproval.

"And you, Katniss, have no shower planned?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "Why would I take a shower?"

She laughs daintily, as if a chuckle would be too much for her to handle. "Oh, Katniss. Let me come down there and we'll plan something for you."

I take a deep breath, envisioning another affair like the wedding. "No."

She's still laughing but stops. "Pardon?"

"No, I'm not having…a _shower_. Of any kind. So please, don't come down."

"Stop being so reproachful! We are having a shower."

I groan. "Effie, Peeta is the father of the baby, not you-"

She gasps. "How dare you suggest it would be otherwise!"

"It's figurative!"

"Look, Katniss. I love you. I can't possibly-"

"Oh, yes, you certainly can!"

"But you-"

"No!"

"Had a wedding-"

"_No_!"

"And now this-"

"NO!"

And finally, she stops, letting out a shaky, severely disappointed breath. For a moment I feel sort of bad, and then I realize it's probably an act.

"Well…send me…pictures."

"Will do."

And then the line goes dead.

* * *

><p>From then on, pregnancy consumes every aspect of my life. Every morning I wake up and take another test, though it's probably unnecessary.<p>

My baby is there, and alive. I couldn't be happier. Peeta rejoices right along with me, sometimes more so, seeing as I still have my fearful moments. Some of these instances are crippling, sending my knees buckling and me to the ground.

"Katniss?" Peeta calls, as I go falling to the floor. I manage to catch myself before anything can happen, shivering all over.

He continues to call and wonder through the house until he finds me in the backyard, with my knees under my chin. I'm whimpering.

"Oh, sweetie," he says, bending down in front of me to run his hands over my face. I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing.

My frame is incredibly shaky, just shards of glass, and if I lose one more thing, I'm sure I'll shatter. It's not a good feeling. Like walking on eggshells, or hot coals. One wrong step and down I go, never to be picked back up again.

"I'm okay," I say at last, slowly getting to my feet. I feel unsteady.

"Look," Peeta says, reaching out to grasp my forearms. "You'll be fine."

"Fine," I repeat in a high-pitched voice. I stare past him, at the wall.

He pulls me close and buries his face in my neck. "Oh, Katniss."

Oh, Katniss is right. I feel horrible.

Together, Peeta and I schedule a much-needed trip to the Capitol, which will double as a vacation and first meeting with Dr. Aurelius to discuss the pregnancy. Haymitch agrees to watch the house for us, even though we don't have anything worth stealing, and Greasy Sae promises to keep our mentor fed. And fairly not-drunk.

So we go, by train, which brings back memories of fifteen years ago, during the first Hunger Games. It's funny, how I didn't even love Peeta, and was prepared to kill him if need be. Then, the second, where I slept in his arms at night and we spent a day on a roof together, throwing apples at a force field and watching the sunset. Then there's our first anniversary together, when he said I looked good with a pregnant belly. I look down at my stomach, where my torso is just beginning to swell. He was right.

It seems that all the important moments in my life took place on trains. It makes me sad to think about it, sad to know that all these things flew by and I barely caught them, just managed to grasp them in my fingertips. And now they're gone.

Then it's good, because a lot of those also hold bad memories, and the only thing this train ride holds is anxiousness to see what our baby will be.

We spend the trip discussing names. I instantly rule out anything too common-I want our babies to be unique. Kind of like us. I don't know of anyone who has the name Katniss, or even Peeta. There's Prim, too, but I'm not going to do that.

We arrive at the Capitol, check into a hotel, and anxiously await the day of the ultrasound. In the meantime, we shop, but have trouble finding anything relatively normal. There's baby fishnet stockings, powdered wigs, and even makeup. I start laughing so hard when I see a corset.

"Why would a newborn need a corset?" I ask in between giggles.

Peeta winds his arm around me and chuckles. "I have _no_ idea."

We end up purchasing a little stuffed duck, which reminds me of my sister and the way she always had a ducktail sticking out from her shirts. That's sobering, and I spend the rest of the day curled up in the hotel, quietly crying.

On the day of the ultrasound, Peeta and I go to the Capitol hospital, which is much too big and unfriendly for my taste. Oddly dressed nurses lead us back into a room that brandishes a metal table, plastic chair, and a high-tech computer system. I lay back on the table and Peeta takes a seat in the chair, scooting it along the floor in order to grab my hand. It is there we wait with bated breath, hoping for good news.

Dr. Aurelius comes in a moment later, giving us a wan smile. "Hi Peeta, hi Katniss. Let me be the first to say that technically I'm not an obstetrician, but I have several degrees and since I've known you two for years, I'll be your primary physician throughout all of this."

"Great," I say lamely, squirming a bit. "Now, can you just-"

Right that moment, nurse with spiky hair comes in wheeling a huge ultrasound machine. She and Dr. A talk quietly for a moment before he nods and and she walks out, glaring at both of us.

"They really don't like people from District Twelve, do they?" I ask.

Dr. Aurelius shakes his head. "Not at all."

A few moments later the gel is on my stomach, he has that little wand-thing in his hand, and he's running it over my belly. I struggle to breathe normally.

"There," he whispers at last, almost in disbelief. "A heartbeat."

Peeta looks at me with wide, anxious eyes, and I struggle to listen. There it is, at long last. A very faint, scratchy sound. My baby is alive.

"You're about thirteen weeks along," Dr. Aurelius explains. "Just at the beginning of your second trimester. And I can make out the gender, too."

"What is it?" I exclaim.

Peeta turns to look at me, shaking his head. He doesn't want to know.

Dr. Aurelius sees this and smiles. "We'll wait, okay?"

"Fine," I say in a huff. "But…he…or she…is fine?"

"Perfect. Now, let me just get you a few forms…"

When he leaves the room, Peeta and I just look at each other. Disbelief is written on both our faces. I open my mouth to say something, then stop.

"That's…amazing." He says at last.

I smile. "It is. Our baby has a heartbeat."

He comes over to gently lays his hands on my stomach. "In just a few months…"

I grab his neck and gently tug him down to kiss me.

His lips against mine are lingering, gentle. There's nothing urgent about the kiss. It's blissfully sweet, and painless. There's no undertone of hunger, no prickling skin, no need for more. This, right here, is perfect.

We break apart as Dr. Aurelius comes back in. He takes in our red faces and hurried breathing with an impish grin. I blush scarlet.

"Here you go, Katniss," he says, handing me a folder full of papers. "Fill these out and mail them back to the Capitol within a couple of weeks."

"All right," I say, standing. Peeta hooks his hand under the crook of my arm, support, though I don't need it.

"Oh, Katniss?" Dr. Aurelius says as we begin to leave.

I turn back to look at him. "Yes?"

He gestures toward my stomach. "This baby's lucky, to be with you and Peeta."

I sigh shakily. "I'd like to think that, but…"

He steps closer, reaching for me, then drops his hand. "I think you'd be surprised about how many people are rooting for you."

I don't say anything, just nod at him once and begin to walk. Peeta follows, still holding me, dropping gentle kisses on my hair.

Maybe Dr. Aurelius is right. Maybe people _are_ still rooting for us. The ones that count, anyway.

But then again, he could be wrong.


	17. Nightmares are Seldom Enjoyed

Hi Guys!

(Okay, I must start out this post similarly to the last which is a given, I guess, but...)

WOW! 118 REVIEWS! WOW! I don't know what to say! :D It's so exciting to log into my email in the morning and see "So and So has added your story to their favorites, or you to their favorite author, or submitted a review"...THANK YOU!

This chapter is short, because today I've been reading (I love reading! How 'bout you?) these great books by Elizabeth Scott. You'll have to check her out. She's a good writer with fast-paced, well-formed stories. Another favorite author of mine is Terra Elan McVoy (anyone else know her?) who's writing style is SUPER unique. :-)

*reading your various reviews/comments/thoughts on the movie and wanted to say a few things*

Fiction Press:

Do you guys know of Fiction Press? I just randomly stumbled upon it while trying to log onto the site. Apparently, it's like a sister of this site, except the web address is: fictionpress (dot) com. :D Check it out! It's for original works, which is really neat. Like I said, I have an account on there, and plan to begin posting soon! :D

The Hunger Games (Movie): 

I did happen to see quite a few guys at the theater, and they actually looked willing! LOL! I think part of the reason The Hunger Games has done so well is because it largely appeals to both genders. :D

Cave Scene: Good...but TOO SHORT! (as I have said...hehe)

Okay, that's all! I better stop typing, now, 'cause it's getting kinda late. Hehe!

Enjoy! Thoughts? This chapter is kinda short, but I promise the next will be action-packed. LOL! :D

-Homey ;)

**Disclaimer:** All Characters/Settings are the creation(s) of Suzanne Collins!

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>It's amazing what happens over the few months.<p>

First, there's my stomach-it gets bigger and bigger, which Peeta comments on everyday. And it's not rude, or even upsetting. He's not saying I'm fat or anything-he's saying I'm pregnant. That he's happy about it and he thinks I'm beautiful.

Haymitch, though, does say I'm fat.

"Look at you!" He chuckles as I come to his house one evening to bring him dinner. "You're as big as a barn."

"And you're as drunk as can be!" I exclaim, before I throw his food on the ground, sending the stew pooling on the ground and mixing with the dirt. He grunts and slams his door. I go home and sit in front of the fire, attempting to sew but stabbing myself with the needle every five seconds.

"What did he do now?" Peeta asks as he walks in and sees my face. It's funny how he doesn't have to ask what's wrong, who upset me-he just knows.

"He said I was, quote, 'as big as a barn'."

Peeta turns on his heel and promptly leaves, coming back ten minutes later with slightly bruised knuckles and three full bottles of liquor.

"He's having a rough day," he explains as I take in his disheveled hair and a shadow of a bruise across his cheekbone. "I had to wrestle him for this."

"Couldn't have been that hard," I say, standing and taking the bottles from him. I dumb them, one-by-one, down the sink. Peeta stands behind me, massaging the small of my back and humming.

"He's surprisingly…strong, when he's wasted," he says at last. I purse my lips.

Other than incidents like that, which don't happen very frequently, my life is simple and happy. Peeta sketches pictures of me all the time, when he's not baking or painting, until there are dozens and dozens. He makes me leaf through them and pick my favorite, which turns out to be a drawing of me staring out the window, mindlessly cradling my stomach with one hand, the other pressed against the glass.

"Why do you like that one the best?" Peeta asks when I hand it to him.

I shrug, because really, I don't know. "I guess…because it doesn't feel forced."

He leans forward to kiss my nose and pulls back with a smile. "You surprise me every day, Katniss."

I roll my eyes. "I don't see how. I'm predictable-everyone says so."

"Except when you're not."

Even though that statement makes absolutely no sense, I just nod.

"Except when I'm not."

* * *

><p>I still have my moments of fear-little instances that are crippling. I no longer fall to the ground, able to support myself, but it's still bad. A thousand scenarios run through my head, all of them different, yet equally unpleasant. Peeta assures me that, yes, it will be okay and we can do this; we're strong. But I know better.<p>

I know I can only be as strong as I need to be, and right now I'm perfectly content to curl up on the floor and wallow in the possibilities of my unborn child's demise.

Not very fun, you see. But inevitable.

Eventually, though, I learn how to cope. Focusing on the nursery is my main outlet, which is fun and keeps my spirits up. We paint the walls a beautiful blue, the color of Peeta's eyes, bordered with white trim and a matching furniture. We decide to wait until the baby's birth to pick out clothes and toys. Right now, the room is simple, just a crib and a rocking chair and a dresser.

People visit around the start of my third trimester-according to Dr. Aurelius-with gifts, and lots of them. Little, frilly lacy bonnets and stuffed bears that are every color of the rainbow. They all refer to the baby as "she". All of them. Everyone wants this baby to be a girl, including me.

I don't know what Peeta hopes for, since we don't talk about it. We speak of the baby as a whole, a thing that we're not sure about yet but is going to come to us eventually. And I like that.

The months pass, things are good, and then everything changes.

_"Peeta?" I call in a concerned voice, grabbing the edge of the counter so hard my knuckles turn white. I gasp and my face screws up in pain._

_"Yes, Katniss?" He replies from the kitchen, where he is kneading dough._

_I grab my pregnant stomach-seven months pregnant, to be exact-and struggle not to cry out. "P-Peeta?"_

_He hears something in my voice, because a moment later he comes around the corner, wiping his hand on a towel._

_"Please," I whisper. "It hurts."_

_His eyes are wide, frightened. I'm sure mine mirror his. Slowly, the pain grows worse, and I'm forced to my knees. He just stares, even as I cry out his name, cling to his leg, plead..._

I wake up letting out a scream that chills my blood. On the bed next to me, Peeta groans and rolls over, looking up at me. He sits up abruptly as he registers the blank expression on my face, how my mouth is opened in mute horror. He reaches out and I'm too frozen to take solace in his arms, too disgusted with myself. I was unable to save her. I was unable to get off my knees and get help. I lost her.

"Katniss," Peeta breathes, pulling me into his embrace. I don't enjoy it. For the first time in fifteen years, I feel cold.

This dream-this nightmare-it was so much worse than the others. Because I thought it was real. It could have been.

It could still be.

I yank my shirt up, taking in my round stomach, and breathe a sigh of relief. My baby is there. She is accounted for.

"Katniss?" Peeta tries again, louder than before.

"What?" I snap, turning toward him. I want to tell him that the world doesn't revolve around him, that there are more important things, but I know I don't wouldn't mean it. I'm only mad because…well, because I'm pregnant.

He frowns at me. "Nothing."

I stare numbly as he scoots under the blankets, facing away from me. Slowly, I reach a hand out to grab his shoulder, to tell him I love him.

I pull back at the last second, because _he's_ not the one they're going to blame if this baby doesn't make it. He's not the one who will have to live with it. Instead I press my fist to my mouth and struggle not to scream.

I didn't know growing up would be so hard. If I did, I might have stayed young forever, scarred and broken but not this much…if I were younger, I would be free to break. But now, with a life in my hands, I can't. I want to, but I can't.

Eventually I lay down, too, taking Peeta's hand under the covers. He freezes for a second but he doesn't pull away.

Silence speaks volumes. It's the talking that makes you wonder if I person really means half of what they say. So, when we have yet to whisper _I love you_ or apologize, I feel okay. Peeta knows me. He knows what I need. And what I need is for him to not say anything, just feel.

And that's exactly what we do.


	18. Chasing Evil 'Way

Hi Guys! :)

AHHH! Thank you for your reviews/comments. So sweet of you all. :D I wish I could respond to each of you personally, but I don't have PMing enabled because when I did I got spam from a couple people. :P I did start a forum where you guys could ask questions and I could answer them and respond to you fully...but I'm not sure if you can access it from my page. Gah! I do not know what I'm doing. hehe

I'm also up to 132 reviews. (gasps) So THANK YOU!

I would start giving shout outs to people but then I'd want to give one to every person who ever commented and I can't. Argh! So, to be fair, I'm just going to say: If you commented THANK YOU SO MUCH! *hugs*

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! :) I chose a special name and everything for their first born. Haha. Also, the poem/song in this is original, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. This chapter also has a lot of revelation for Katniss. One thing I noticed when reading other fanfics is that Katniss seemed...okay. And I don't think she'll ever be. But this chapter is kind of closure for her.

Once again, if you notice any pregnancy inconsistencies/unrealistic things, feel free to point them out. I'm just basing this off of...TV. I know, I know. Like, all the shows on TLC. And Sixteen and Pregnant. Mwahahaha...yes, I do watch that show sometimes. I can't help it! And Teen Mom. LOL!

You all are AMAZING! Because I could totally not write this without you all. :)

-Homey :D

P.S. THE HUNGER GAMES IS THE THIRD MOST SUCCESSFUL MOVIE EVER ON IT'S OPENING WEEKEND! I found that exciting! Yay! It made about $155 MILLION. Yes. Million. W-o-W! It already beat all the Twilight movies. (^.^)...no disrespect to Twilight. I have another fanfic up on here about that!

**Disclaimer: **The name, the song, and the dialogue might be mine, but the rest belongs to Suzanne Collins, who is brilliant!

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>This is not okay. This is not okay. This is not okay.<p>

That's all I can think when the first contraction seizes me. That's all I can think when I cry out, holding my stomach. That's all I can think when Peeta rushes in, the picture of poise, and lifts me effortlessly into his arms.

"Katniss? Where should I-?"

"Upstairs!" I gasp. "Take me upstairs!"

He does so without word, laying me down on our bed. Something about this seems extremely barbaric. We were supposed to leave in three days. We were supposed to be in the Capitol when this happened. And now…I'm lying on our bed while Peeta looks at me helplessly, twiddling his thumbs. Two weeks early.

"Call Dr. Aurelius!" I exclaim, holding back a scream. I've been through pain, lots of it, but this is one of the worst. Aren't I supposed to have medicine to numb me? But we don't have any of that. The hospital in the Capitol does. But we're not-

"Please!" I cry.

That seems to put Peeta in motion, because he runs down the stairs three at a time. I press my mouth close and bite my tongue to keep silent. It draws blood. The metallic, salty taste fills my mouth and I spit, sending it across the bed, staining the white sheets.

Peeta comes back up a few minutes later, but he's not alone. Haymitch…_Haymitch _is with him. No. No, no, no no no no NO!

"What the _hell_?" I exclaim.

Haymitch narrows his eyes at me. "Thank you for your enthusiasm."

"Shut up!"

Peeta looks back and forth from me to him helplessly. "Greasy Sae isn't in town, and I need someone else…I can't…I can't do this by myself."

Even though he's thirty-four, he looks so little, so worn.

I let out a loud sigh. "Fine. But he can't-" I am cut off as another painful contraction seizes me.

Peeta is holding a phone in his hand, which he puts to his ear and then murmurs something into. I can only pick out a few words.

"Often…no…should we…okay. Yes."

"What is he saying?" I demand, looking at Haymitch.

He shrugs unhelpfully. "Don't know, don't care."

"I swear-if you're drunk, I'm going to kill you!"

"I'm not drunk!"

"Oh my _god_! You're _drunk!_"

"So?"

"You're going to help deliver my baby _drunk_! What if you drop her?"

"Why do you keep putting emphasis on the word drunk?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Please!" Peeta yells, and we both shut up. I whimper as I have another contraction. They're getting worse.

Haymitch expression softens and he comes over to awkwardly smooth back by hair. I glare at him. His hand is rough, calloused against my head, but it's loving. I sigh and try to relax without success.

I turn my attention back to Peeta as he hangs up the phone and hurries into the bathroom. I hear water running and he emerges with a clean towel and freshly washed hands.

"Katniss? I'm going to ask you to push."

"What? Why?"

"Because, Dr. Aurelius says-"

I curse as pain slices through me once again, harsh and unforgiving. It leaves trails across my stomach, searing up my spine.

Peeta looks at Haymitch with wide, worried eyes. He scared for me. And he shouldn't be. I need to-

"Okay," I agree, gasping as I have another contraction. They're speeding up now. So much for being in labor for hours. Thank god.

I wriggle out of the bottom half of my clothes, glaring at Haymitch. He just winks at me and looks at the ceiling.

"I swear, Haymitch, if you move your eyes once inch I _will_ punch you in the face. I can still kick your butt, even if I _am_ pregnant."

"Sure-"

Peeta interrupts Haymitch with a sharp, "Now!"

I'm momentarily confused, so I don't do anything, and when the next contraction comes I let out a shriek. Peeta looks at me helplessly, taking my hand, whispering that it'll be okay and I can do it, I can do it.

I believe him.

So I push. We count. I push. We count. My vision begins to grow hazy, my breathing is labored. The pain is terrible. But I don't stop. It's like that feeling you get when you're so exhausted you know you can't take another step. You need to sit down. But you keep walking, because you really can. It's just in your mind.

Even when I'm convinced I can no longer push, I do. And right when I'm on the brink of screaming that I can't do it anymore, I hear it.

My baby cries.

"One more time," Peeta whispers, and his voice cracks, betraying his emotion. It runs deep. Mine does, too.

So I gather up everything I have left and I push. I push and push and push until Peeta lets out a cheer and the baby's cries grow louder.

I sigh, absolutely worn, and crane my neck to see the little life that lies in Peeta's arms.

It is a she. I can tell that much upon first sight. I flood with a warmth I've only ever had when Peeta's told me he loves me. And I know the feeling. It's devotion, undying devotion. And now I owe my life to this little girl.

"Please," I mumble. "Can I hold her?"

"Sure," Peeta replies. I hear a snap of scissors as he cuts something-the umbilical cord?-and hands her to me, all bundled warm and cozy in a soft towel.

"Oh," I whisper upon seeing her. Haymitch, quiet and reserved this entire time, bends over to see her.

"She's pretty, Katniss. Like you."

I turn to him and see his eyes filling with tears. Haymitch is crying. It's something I've never seen before. A side of himself he's never shown.

"Here," I say, reluctant to give her up but wanting him to feel her, too. "Hold her Haymitch, please. Get to know her."

He holds his arms out and very gingerly takes her in his arms. It's like she was made to lay there. He's had practice before, too, I can tell. And I see this light in his eyes I've never seen before. It's bright and loving.

Haymitch needed this baby just as much as Peeta, as much as me.

"Here," he says after a moment, handing her back. "I-ah-I got to go."

He hurries from the room before I can even say goodbye, before I can thank him. Peeta stares after him before climbing up onto the bed beside me, kissing our daughter's head and then my lips.

"She's beautiful," he whispers when we pull apart. "Perfect."

"So," I agree. "So perfect."

We sit there for several moments, staring at her in awe. Her mouth is small and fragile, her eyes closed yet gorgeous. She cries until Peeta reminds me that she's probably hungry. I'm confused until I remember having this conversation with Dr. Aurelius, and then I do what he told me, still staring at her even as she eats.

Peeta gets up eventually, to go downstairs and make tea, and comes up with two mugs. Huh. I remember a time-so many years ago-when he bought me tea. He's done it a thousand times since but that memory still sticks with me.

I begged him to let me die. He wouldn't let me. He just held me. We laughed. We rejoiced. We ended up having fun.

He knew I had so much to live for. He knew.

"Thank you," I whisper as he hands me my cup. The words have a double meaning. He senses this and his eyebrows raise. Then, he too seems to take in the scene from so many years ago, and he nods. Not "you're welcome" not, "I was right", just a nod. I close my eyes as he presses his lips to my nose.

I've been stupid all my life. I've been waiting to feel like I belonged, like I had a purpose. And I realize my purpose all along has been to live, and survive. Isn't that what we all need? We give up so easily. _I_ gave up so easily. But there are those rare people, the ones like Peeta, the ones who love you despite your flaws and are there to pick the pieces back up, to make you whole again.

And it's strange. I don't think of Prim, of Finnick, of Mags, of Boggs, of Wiress, of Rue, of Cato, or Thresh. I don't think of those who are dead and feel sad. I think, for the first time in my life, of the ones who are alive yet have nothing. And I feel sorry for them.

I look at her. And then I sing.

"_There she is all rosy-cheeked _

_In the valley of delight _

_Upon her op'ning eyes she sees _

_A day as black as night_."

Peeta is silent, listening. After a while he joins in. He knows the song, too.

"_And mama holds her to her chest _

_Crooning loving words _

_She dances in the waving grass _

_A child but a blur_."

I stop, trying to catch my breath, trying not to remember when I sang this to Prim when she was little, a song long-ago forgotten. I try, but I fail.

"_And a heartbeat faint yet welcomed _

_Though wandering far today_

_Befriending all the wholly things _

_And chasing evil 'way_."

Peeta stops then, looking at me. He forgot the rest. But I couldn't. I can't.

"_Bundled in a hasty cloth _

'_Fore long will tear to shreds _

_But, right now, she's in mama's arms _

_With kisses 'pon her head_…"

We sit silent for a long time after that, holding hands. I know the song holds memories for him, too. I just don't know what for.

"That…I used to sing that to Prim," I say at last.

He turns to look at me, raising his eyebrows. "Mom sang that to me. When she was feeling…nice. But she never replaced the 'she' with a 'he'. Still wanted a girl."

I laugh, I can't help myself. "That's…that's horrible."

He grins. "I know."

I look down at the baby in my arms, peaceful in sleep, content with her life. She has yet to be burned. I will make sure she's never the girl on fire.

But she _can_ be the girl who put out the fire. Who made it stop smoldering, hating, clinging to things that are bad.

"Chasing evil 'way," I whisper, just to myself, too low for Peeta's ears.

He looks at me anyway, hearing my murmuring, but he doesn't ask.

"Can we name her Ree?" He asks, rather suddenly.

"Ree?" I furrow my eyebrows and then test it out. "Ree. Ree?"

"Yeah," he says simply. "Ree."

And it's right. I don't know why, or how, but it is.

I look down at her and I whisper her name.

"Ree Mellark."

And it sounds perfect.


	19. This Note Was From Him But I Want You

Hi Guys!

**154** reviews.

Yes, you read that right. I can hardly believe it, either. Okay, scratch that. I CAN'T believe it. And I know it's all because of you guys! THANK YOU SO MUCH! It's so exciting to have my writing recognized. :) And like I said, I love reviews, so thank you. A ba-zillion times. *hugs*

It's getting late, so I'd better go!

-Homey ;)

P.S. I'm not sure about this chapter...I wrote it during one of my, "I'm-Not-Really-In-The-Mood-To-Write-But-I-Need-To-Update" moods, so hopefully it's okay. Thanks! If you guys just aren't feeling it, then please, feel free to let me know! Feedback, constructive criticism, it all helps a TON! Thanks!

**Disclaimer: **All these characters belong to Suzanne Collins. As do the plots. :)

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>From then on, Ree consumes every aspect of our lives. I hold her, I nurse her, I play with her, sometimes I even sleep with her. (Though Dr. Aurelius says I shouldn't.) Peeta hurries home every day from the bakery to come and take her off my hands, willingly at that. Occasionally, when I tell him I'm going to take a nap, I stop before I hit the stairs and just watch him with her. His hands are gentle as he holds her, his voice beautiful as he sings…and I find I have a new love for him. It's stronger.<p>

A baby, I realize, binds two people together. To realize that Ree was the product of my love for Peeta, and his for me is, well, stunning. I feel like I don't deserve her, but I'm thankful. And I'm happy.

Haymitch comes over daily, smelling less and less like booze each time, to hold her or tell her stories, even though she is far too young to understand. Peeta and I usually take a walk when he comes, holding hands and winding around the meadow, up through the woods, towards the lake.

"I love you," he whispers each time, pulling me in for a much-needed kiss.

My lips curve into a smile as I reply, "I love you, too."

As the months pass, Ree changes. She begins to move her head by herself, moves her body, and smiles. The first time she smiles I run all the way to the bakery to get Peeta, stupidly leaving her in the house by herself. When I get back, less than five minutes later, she is crying and pounding her tiny fists on the floor.

"_This_ is smiling?" Peeta says with a laugh.

I elbow him in the ribs. "Ugh! No!"

"Fine, let's-" But as he bends down to pick her up, she throws her head back and lets out an even longer wail.

"She doesn't want you!" I chirp smugly, leaning over. "She wants-"

But I am cut off as Ree screams the second my hands close around her writhing frame. I jerk back as if I've been shocked, and maybe I have, because she's hasn't ever _not _wanted me to hold her.

Peeta looks at me helplessly before he shrugs and says, "Let's try Haymitch."

I agree at once, sure he will get similar results, but as he comes over and gathers her into his arms less than five minutes later, she stops.

"What?" I ask with shock. "But, I-"

Haymitch grins devilishly. "Someone's got a favorite!"

I narrow my eyes at him. "You're not her favorite. I am!"

"Sure about that, Katniss?"

"Yes, _Haymitch_, I'm positive."

"Then why is she-"

"Oh! Please! She's three months old! Tell him, Peeta."

"Well, I-" Peeta looks helplessly from me to Haymitch. "I don't know."

Haymitch laughs. "You just don't want to-"

"You really think that-"

"-Admit the truth, Katniss. She-"

"-She'd pick you over-"

"-Loves me the best-"

I let out a groan of frustration, leaning my head against the wall. "Fine, Haymitch. You win. For now."

He strides off to go site on the couch, chuckling.

I sit down on the stairs and Peeta sits beside me.

"Sorry, Katniss."

"It's…it's fine."

He leans over to gently pull my mouth to his. The gesture is so unexpected I freeze for a moment. Eventually, though, the movement of his lips works me out of my angry state and I kiss him back, pushing him down until his back rests uncomfortably against the stairs. He pulls me closer to him, and I press my hands to the sides of his face-

"Do you want me to leave before or _after_ you two shed your clothing?"

Crap. Haymitch.

"Um…" I look up to where he is sitting, watching us with a look of disgust on his face. I realize Peeta's hands are very, very low on my back and squirm from his grasp.

"Sorry," I apologize meekly, red dusting my cheeks, but Peeta just grins.

Haymitch grunts a reply and turns to hand Ree back to me.

"You two…are like…." He rolls his eyes and strides from the house, slamming the door beside him. Good, we've made him mad. Or made him loose his lunch. Either one would be satisfying.

"Hi my sweet little baby," I croon, settling Ree into my lap. She is perfectly calm now, the picture of serenity. I kiss the top of her head, soft with fine, brown hair. My hair. She has Peeta's sky-blue eyes. She is a perfect mixture of us.

Peeta places his hand on the small of my back, pulling me close. "She's beautiful, Katniss. I'm so happy we have her."

I study her plump face, which is slowly slipping into sleep, and nod my agreement. "She's perfect."

We go to tuck Ree into bed and, after that, somehow end up kissing each other again. I'm pressed up against the wall and my elbows are digging into the banister but I don't care. This is just as comfortable as being on the stairs, although maybe not as-

"Do you want to-?" He begins to ask, and I don't say anything, don't nod.

"Peeta," I whisper. "I would do this all over again. With you."

That stops him. He pulls away, looking at me with confusion. "What?"

"You know…I'd do everything again. Enter the Games. Lose Prim. If it meant being with you, if I was offered that chance…I hate myself for saying it, but I'd say no. I'd tell whoever it was that things happened like they were supposed to, and that…"

Peeta chuckles and takes my face in his hands. "And you know what I'd say."

"Not a chance?"

I can feel his smirk under my lips. "Not a chance."

* * *

><p>I hear of Gale.<p>

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It's not like he's gone, out of my life. He was my best friend. And, a less important reason, he was the only guy I ever kissed besides Peeta. But that doesn't matter. I tell myself it doesn't.

"He sent me a letter," mom explains. "To post to you. So I did."

"He knows where I live," I say in a flat, detached voice.

She pauses a long time before answering, "I know."

The letter does come, less than three days later. I open it with shaky hands; glad Peeta's at the bakery and Ree is taking a nap.

There are times…there are times when I can't handle people, and though I hate

myself for it, I need to be alone.

I do read it, and after I do I rip it into a million little pieces and throw them, one by one, into the fire. Then I go upstairs and I bury my face in my pillow and I scream. I scream and scream and scream. The sounds are muffled by the pillow.

When Peeta comes home, I know he can tell something is wrong. We eat a silent dinner, and when he goes to play with Ree I stay seated at the kitchen table, Gale's letter playing over and over again in my head on repeat.

_Dear Katniss…it sounds funny not to call you Catnip, but, I guess we're past terms of endearment, aren't we? Anyway, I bet you're wondering why I wrote. No, I _know_ you're wondering why I'm writing. And it's because I wanted to say I heard about Ree and Peeta and I'm happy for you. I've also found my own happiness, with a girl named Sarah from District Six. She's everything I wanted, and we're engaged, and we're expecting our first son in the fall. I just…thought I should tell you. I hope you're well, and I hope you have what you want. I hope_-

"Katniss?" Peeta's voice is so suddenly at my ear I jump.

"W-what?" I ask, turning around.

"I just tucked Ree in. Are you ready to come up?"

I look at the house around me, see the lights have been turned off and the front door has been locked. There aren't any dirty dishes in the sink, though there were before.

"I'm sorry. Did I fall asleep?"

Peeta shakes his head, laughing. "No, but you might have well been. You just sat at the table, staring…" His voice breaks and I see the worry etched on his forehead.

I force a smile. "Before you ask, Peeta, I'm fine. No worries."

"Are you sure? Because you can-"

"I know, I know, tell you anything. But I'm fine."

I can tell he's hurt but he doesn't say anything. We climb into bed and fall asleep. Or, at least, he does. I stay wide-awake, tossing and turning.

Because I know Gale. I know him as well as I know myself and I know…I know that letter was his way of rubbing it in. Of saying that I got a happy life, but his is better.

And then I know that it hurts him so much he just had to tell me about it. That is strangely comforting, and when I roll over and close my eyes, I feel content.

I feel closure.


	20. Never Okay But It Gets Better

Hi Guys! :)

Another update.

**176** REVIEWS. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY! OMW! GUYS! *hugshugshugs*

If I made 200 once this chapter was posted...I WOULD FAINT! Okay, maybe not! ;) But something awesome and amazing MIGHT just happen in the next chapter. *Mwahahaha*

The reviews are amazing! I so appreciate every word you all take the time to type. :')

Okay, so this chapter deals with some...violence. And it's not okay, what happens in this chapter, but it's necessary. Which I think it is. Because I feel like Peeta and Katniss will never stop being haunted, whether by nightmares or hallucinations or...whatever. I just hope you guys don't mind it! I actually had an easier time writing this (?) than I did the last chapter. :P

Thanks SO MUCH!

-Homey :)

**Disclaimer:** There are good characters. And then there are great ones. And then there are the ones that make you fall in love with them, that you can't stop thinking about. Suzanne Collins created these characters in _The Hunger Games_, _Catching Fire_, and _Mockingjay._ I hope I do them justice.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>I curl myself close to Peeta, concentrating on breathing. I cling to the front of his shirt, my palms slick, my mind fighting against the nightmares. I don't want them. I don't want any part of them. I thought Ree would take them away and make them better. But they've come back. Worse. Because instead of losing Prim I'm losing her.<p>

"Please," I whimper, squeezing my eyes shut.

"It's okay, Katniss," Peeta whispers, rubbing my arm soothingly. "It'll pass. Ree's here. She's in the next room."

I struggle to breathe, half-asleep, on the brink of waking up and having the images gone. "Get her. For me."

"Okay," he agrees readily, returning a moment later with our sleeping baby in his arms. I hold my trembling hands out and he lays her against me. I hold her close until I stop shaking.

"I'm good," I breathe at last, letting out a shuddery breath.

"Do you want me to take her back?"

I shake my head mutely. "No…"

Peeta nods and climbs back into bed, wrapping his arms around me, with Ree pressed between our chests.

"It's terrible," I mumble. "I can't…"

Peeta touches my cheek. "It's to be expected."

My face crumples. "No, Peeta. It's not normal."

He looks at me, staring into my eyes. "It is."

"It isn't."

"_It is_."

The tension in the room is suddenly unbearable. I glare at him before turning on my back, staring stubbornly at the ceiling.

We don't try to fix things this time.

* * *

><p>The silence continues through the next morning. Peeta kisses Ree and gives me a halfhearted wave before hurrying off to the bakery. But I don't worry. Things always work out between us, and I'm sure we'll be okay again by the end of the day.<p>

I decide to go hunting, bundling Ree up in a blanket and toting her out to the woods, where I sit her on a blanket spread across the grass. I wander off a few yards and quickly kill a rabbit for tonight's dinner.

We picnic together, though I nurse her, snacking on cheese and apples. When the sun begins is overhead, signaling noon, I know Peeta will be home before long, and back we go.

I put her down for a nap and skin the rabbit, dicing it and throwing it in a stew. I add potatoes, corn, and lots of rice. By the time Peeta walks in the front door, it simmers, casting delicious smells throughout the house.

"Hi," I say, going into the living room to greet him with a smile.

But something's not right. He won't look at me, won't meet my eyes. I go forward to gingerly press my hand against his shoulder.

He looks up and my blood goes cold. His eyes are glazed over.

"What are you doing in my house?" He hisses.

I back away, shaking my head. "It's…it's our house, Peeta."

He reaches for me but I jump back at the last second, letting out a little scream. This seems to anger him. Before he can get to me, I turn and run for the stairs. I'm halfway up before he grabs my ankle, sending me down. I crack my chin on the hard, cool stairs. For a second my vision blurs.

"You," he hisses, grabbing a fistful of my hair, and yanking me up by my the hair at the nape of my neck. I struggle not to cry out. "Finally, I've got you."

I thrash as he drags me into Ree's room. Not in here. Even if he really did hurt me-and I still doubt that he will-I don't want it to be in front of her.

"Let's…let's go into our bedroom," I say in my calmest voice. "We can talk there. We can-"

"Shut up!" He yells, shoving me roughly against the wall. My elbow hits the doorframe and begins to bleed. I stare down at my arm in shock. Then I'm not so scared as much as angry. Angry with the Capitol for making him like this, angry with Snow…but worst of all, angry with _him_. My husband. For hurting me.

"Peeta," I plead, still trying to maintain my serenity. "We…we'll talk over this, okay? We'll make you fine again. You're just seeing things."

"Am I?" He hisses in my ear. I squirm.

"Yes. You are. Now, let's go-"

When I begin to move, he pins me back against the wall roughly with his arm, dragging it up my body until it is pressed right under my chin, against my neck. Now it's much harder than it was to breathe before, and his fingers are digging into my shoulder.

"You killed everyone. Prim…my family…Finnick."

I shake my head. "N-no-"

He silences me by placing his free hand over my mouth. "You did. And you're going to pay for it, Katniss. Pay dearly."

As a last resort, I bring my knee up into his stomach. He doubles over and I wheel around, reaching for the door.

Before my hand can close around the knob he grabs me, throwing me back and sending me into Ree's dresser. It topples over, with me on top. I land painfully and it rolls over to pin me under.

"It'll be quick," Peeta promises as he walks forward. Against my better judgment, I begin to cry.

"P-please," I whisper. "Peeta, come back to me."

He reaches forward to do something-grasp my neck and twist it, to punch me in the head-I'll never know. Because Ree cries out.

He jerks up into a standing position, looking wildly behind him.

"Where did that come from?"

My eyes have gone wide with fear, and I can't answer. If he hurts her-

"No Peeta!" I yell as he starts toward her crib. "Don't! Kill me, please, and leave her. Don't touch her!"

He doesn't heed my warning, just walks forward until he is leaning over her crib.

"Who is that?" He demands.

I press my lips together in a firm line, refusing to answer. I squirm under the dresser, which should be easy to kick off me, but my head is spinning and my vision is hazy. I can't fathom left from right.

"Who is that?" He asks in a louder, more commanding voice.

I freeze and then look down, having no choice but to answer. "My daughter."

He turns and glares at me. "Gale's daughter?"

I shake my head rapidly, praying to myself that he comes back.

"Your daughter, Peeta."

He freezes and seems to take her in again, those eyes that are a mirror of his own.

"My daughter? But that would mean we-"

I start to cry again. "Peeta, of course we-I mean, you're my husband. You love me. You tell me everyday."

"I love you?"

I can see the anger fading, the hallucinations becoming less present.

"Yes. And I…love you."

"I love you, too-" He shudders and then looks up, right into my eyes. My red, puffy eyes. Panic registers on his face and he bends over, lifting the dresser off of me and gathering me in his arms.

"Katniss? What happened?"

I begin to sob, unable to control myself, as he walks down the hall to lay me down on our bed and smoothes my hair back.

"You're bleeding! What-" Then he seems to realize, and she shakes his head. "No. I didn't-I couldn't-"

I point to my throat, where I can feel a bruise beginning. "You did."

"I-" He stops, looking horrified. "I did this to you?"

My face crumples and I bend over, tucking my head into my arms.

"Ree!" He exclaims, standing up. "Is she okay?"

I nod. "Yes. You didn't hurt her."

"But I hurt you."

I don't like how empty his voice sounds, completely void of emotion. I can see the wheels start to turn in his head, see him remembering.

"I'll…go get a bandage. For your elbow."

He turns into the bathroom and comes back a moment later with some gauze and antibiotic spray. In the short time he's gone, I've collected myself, so when he returns I'm sitting up and smiling.

"It's nothing," I say lightly as I hike my sleeve up.

Peeta reaches forward to touch my arm and then stops. "Take your shirt off."

I wonder for a second if he wants to-now?-and then realize it would probably make cleaning the cut easier. "Oh. Okay."

I take off the fabric, which has become bloodstained, and do my best to sit straight so my stomach stays relatively flat.

Peeta reaches over to gently guide my arm into his lap, keeping his eyes trained on the cut. It burns a little when he cleans it, and I see it's long, but shallow, which is good. After a second he finishes and lays my arm back down.

"Turn over," he says in a voice that's not very commanding, more pleading.

I do so without word and feel his hands ghost across my back.

"You have…bruises. Already."

I roll back over, smiling up at him. "I'm fine." I must have gotten them when he pushed me into the dresser. "I've been through worse."

He reaches out to gently touch my chin. It throbs. When he pulls back, his hand has blood on it. I frown for a moment and then sigh.

"Peeta, really, I'm okay."

He looks shocked. "I did this to you."

I smell something burning then and gasp. "The stew!"

He looks at me with confusion as I leap from the bed and go charging downstairs, where the rabbit stew has just proceeded to boil over and make a mess on the countertops and floor. I turn the burner off, feeling my eyes sting with tears, the efforts of the day wasted. All because of-no, I won't think that. It's not his fault.

I hear Peeta's steady tread behind me and he stoops over to sop some of the broth up with a sponge. He hands me one. Wordlessly, we work over the kitchen until it's shining, and head back upstairs. I'm not hungry anymore.

"I'll go change Ree," I say as we hit the top step.

Peeta turns to look at me. "I can."

I shake my head firmly, trying not to show him that it worries me for him to be around her. She is so fragile, so breakable. "No, I've got it."

I can see he understands anyway and the hurt in his eyes is bitter. I still go to Ree's room by myself, changing her in silence and feeding her.

When I look up at myself in the mirror, I'm shocked into silence. I'm a mess of hideous scrapes and bruises. My chin is the worst, the flesh curling around the cut, and my neck is bruised severely.

I sit there, wearing nothing but jeans, and yet I feel the most covered I've ever been. Because I'm covered by the marks of someone who says he loves me, yet hurts me. Even if he doesn't mean it I still feel hated.

"Goodnight, sweet baby," I whisper against Ree's head. I tuck her in and wrap one of her baby blankets around my upper half, shuffling down the hall and into our bedroom. I see Peeta is buried under the covers but he doesn't say anything. I change into pajamas in silence.

My bed has never felt so cold as I slide under the cheeks, and more so, I've never felt half this alone. Not in the arena during The Games, not when I was trapped for days in a locked room while the Capitol decided my fate.

It's funny how sadness always picks the worst time to creep up on you.

I feel like once again I'm going to go to bed without anything-a smile, a touch, an "I love you", when Peeta talks.

"Katniss? I am so, so sorry."

I don't say anything, just turn my head too look at him. He is staring at me, looking at me like he means it. He reaches a hand out to gently touch my cheek.

"I'll leave if you need me to. I won't-I won't ask to stay. But I will beg for your forgiveness, and I will beg for you to keep me as your husband. I'll-"

I lean forward to kiss him before he can say anything else. When we pull away, I keep my forehead against his, reaching out to wrap my arms around him.

"Peeta…I forgive you…"

He shakes his head. "No, Katniss. You can't. How could you? I've hurt you worse than I ever had before and I can't-" He stops, and his voice cracks.

"But I do," I promise him. "I do. I love you. That's what…that's what people who love each other do. They say, 'I still love you.'"

He smiles ruefully. "I don't see how you can. I swore I'd never hurt you again and look what I-" He breaks off, then, just stares.

"Peeta…it's okay to cry, you know."

So we do, both of us. We hold each other and we cry it out.


	21. Distance is Painful But So Is Closeness

Hi Guys! :)

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I. Made. **215** reviews. Or, I should say YOU made 215 reviews.

I'm speechless. (you must be SO glad your ears-er, eyes?-are getting a break!) WOW.

This is...! (googled it.) :D

Okay, I'm going to thank some people now! (you guys have earned it!)

Dino-SOAR, swifftheswiffer, SamiBoo, TheRebelMockingJay , xoElle23, A-LovesHP, Space23Case, joloco311, SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA, iluvpeetam, EbunnyLove, kurtcoblaine290, HG Trilogy, cbook211, amarilis24, Sofimbc, mamabookworm, Barb R, xoBrownEyedGirlox, CJuneK, fallindecember, PiperPaigeP3, Foot-in-mouth-disease, TeamPeetaForever1140, xYouDroppedItCurlyx, Emberailee, Nava-Shira, To Love Is To Destroy, READandWRITE11, mgmve2008, , fading denim, brokenturtle, Icemask511, Red Anne Vane, sanityisfiction, Shoney,...ALL you guys reviewed chapter 20. That. Is. AMAZING! I think I counted 37 people. (^.^) *shrieks and then proceeds to thank/hug everyone*

Okay, so the forum for asking questions and me answering is the following: fanfiction(dot)net/myforums/HomeschoolGirl/3507025/

Ask away and I'll be glad to answer/say thanks. If you've reviewed before just comment, "I've reviewed" and I'll be like, "THANK YOU! AHHH!" ;)

Off to watch American Idol. (yay...I'm team Phillip Phillips or Hee Jun Han!)

Byee! (and thanks a million!)

-Homey ;)

P.S. Currently reading "Bloom" by Elizabeth Scott. What are you reading? :)

**Disclaimer: **All these characters are the work of Suzanne Collins. I love 'em!

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>The next time Haymitch comes over, he doesn't ask about the cuts and bruises. I know he notices, though, because when he leaves he whispers in my ear, "Come to my house if you ever need anything. I don't care if it's two in the morning, Katniss. Just come."<p>

My face floods red with shame I cannot place. "Peeta, h-he wasn't even himself, Haymitch. He apologized; he's sorry."

"Sorry doesn't mean he won't do it again."

I am infinitely glad my husband is at the bakery, seeing as he doesn't need anything else making him feel bad. He hasn't touched me since the night after the hallucination, or Ree, and I know it's driving both of us crazy.

"Fine," I say stiffly, looking at the floor. "I'll…I'll talk to you later."

He takes the hint. And he leaves.

I let out a little sigh and turn to my daughter who is wriggling happily on the floor, as babies tend to do. She's still so new to the world, yet full of energy. I grin and take her in my arms, promising to go back to the meadow soon. She rewards me with a cheerful smile.

Time passes, as it tends to do. For once I wish it would just slow down and give me a minute to gather myself and patch things up. Peeta continues to maintain an uncomfortable distance. He's here, of course; he takes me in his arms and plays with Ree and kisses my hair, but he's not _with_ me. Not emotionally.

We're standing there, chopping up vegetables for dinner in silence, when I crack. I turn to him, my knife clattering to the ground, and stride forward to grab his shirt.

"Look at me, Peeta! Look at me! Talk to me, _please_. I'm begging you!"

He just smiles politely at me and gently maneuvers out of my grasp. "I don't know what you mean, Katniss. Hey, look-I hear Ree crying."

I stare after him as he hurries up the stairs, crying silently. If I could just get him to forget what he did, and see that I don't care if he hurts me, then it would be okay. I know as I think it how silly it sounds. But that's love-it's irrational. It makes you do things and be okay with things you normally wouldn't. That's Peeta and I.

Ree grows and our distance becomes greater. We celebrate her first birthday with Haymitch and a small group of our friends, just enough people to barely fill a room. The whole ordeal is rather cold and uncomfortable, so after presents everyone leaves.

"Did you have a good day?" I ask Ree as I pick her up. She gives me a full-lipped smile and giggles.

"Ood-tay, mama. Ood-tay."

"That's right," I whisper, lifting her up and blowing on her stomach. She giggles and squirms. I smile wryly and pull her close. "That's right. Good day."

Since I have extra attention to spare, I more or less devote myself to Ree. If she cries, I come. We potty train, we talk, we play. Peeta helps some, but spends many long hours at the bakery. We go to bed every night with space between us, and sometimes he ends up on the couch in the mornings. I ask him why and he says he felt a hallucination coming on and had to get away.

"Well," I say as sharply as I can, "I think you're lying."

He clenches his jaw and his eyes go dark. "I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not. Quit acting so…"

"Childish? Is that what you were going to say? Now I'm the child, am I? Well, Peeta, you are a sorry excuse for a-"

I am interrupted by Ree's cries for "Mama!" and flash him a glare before hurrying upstairs to her room. I give her what she wanted quickly-a toy that had somehow worked its way out of her crib-and hurry to the bathroom. Once behind the safety of a closed door, I allow myself to cry.

My life is a mess, and my marriage is more or less doomed.

We put up a front. On the outside, we are your average happy District Twelve family. But underneath the little skin that secludes us from the world, we are broken. We are the ones who stay up late yelling at each other. We're the ones who stop kissing, stop allowing ourselves harmless touches. Holding hands stings, and not in a good way. The hunger is more or less gone, shoved away into some dark place I care not to search through. Eventually Peeta moves out of our bedroom completely and into the guest room. We don't talk about it. One day he's there and the next he's not.

Ree turns two, and I turn a painful thirty-six. I feel old, to say the least, and unloved. We don't really bother to throw her a party, just give small gifts and eat a cake Peeta made for her. It tastes like cardboard.

"Mama?" Ree asks as I tuck her into bed that night. "Why you and daddy fight?"

I purse my lips. "We don't Ree, we don't."

She clenches her jaw, and it reminds me of Peeta. Even at two years of age she looks scary when she's mad.

"You do, Mama. You do."

"No, Ree. I don't."

She looks at me, so young yet so insightful, and reaches out to touch my cheek.

"You sad."

"I'm not-"

She just gives a little shake of her head and sits down. "I don't want to go bed!"

I smile-that sounds more like her-and wag my finger. "Ree, you have to go to bed! You know about…the faeries!"

She giggles and then stops, looking around with wide eyes. "Are they here yet?"

I lower my voice. "Not yet…but they will. They come and sprinkle sweet dreams all over you. And then you see the nicest pictures when you close your eyes."

"Okay. Goo-night!"

I tuck her in and kiss her forehead before heading down the hall. I get ready for bed and climb under the sheets.

"Katniss?"

I look up to see Peeta standing in the doorway, looking unsure. He's twisting his hands together. I smile, despite myself. He looks so young and innocent when he does things like that-like he's never done wrong. And maybe he hasn't.

"I've been unfair," I say with earnest, scooting off the bed. "I'm sorry."

He closes his eyes, sighing. "Please, don't-"

I stop him with a kiss, striding forward the last few paces to crush my mouth to his. I don't want apologies. I don't want distance. I want here, I want now-I want him.

"I'm going to love you no matter what you do," I whisper, pulling away.

He wraps his arms around me. "I've missed you."

I smile faintly.

"I've missed you, too."

* * *

><p>Things go back to normal after that, whatever normal is. It takes no time before Peeta and I fall back into our routine-a flighty kiss in the hallway, a brush of hands under the dinner table-and I'm much happier.<p>

Ree is, too. She sees our love, and it makes her smile. She also begins to talk more, in full sentences, and by her third birthday we decide to throw a big bash to make up for all the lost ones.

The party is large, and fun. Annie comes with Trevor, Lily, and her third child-little Bobby who is only a few months older than Ree. Effie responds to her invitation with a resounding yes and appears with an unfamiliar man in tow. When I ask her about them she blushes and says it's nothing.

Mom agrees to come after much persuading. I'm not sure how much good her visit will do, but I want her to know her granddaughter. Ree deserves that, if anything. She agrees to stay at the house.

I look up Johanna's number, seeing as I haven't talked to her in years, and ready myself to invite her.

"Hello?" A deep, male voice answers after three rings.

I'm thrown, unable to speak, and my answer comes late.

"Yes, ah-I'm looking for Johanna?"

"Oh," he says, then yells her name. "Who is this?"

I sit down, uncomfortable. "Kat-"

Before I can finish Johanna's voice is on the line, rough and urgent.

"Who is this? I told that phone company not to use this number anymore!"

"Johanna?" I ask in disbelief. "Hi, it's Katniss."

"Katniss?" There is a long pause, and someone shouts. She clears her throat. "What do you want? Make it quick, please, I'm with a client."

"A client? What do you-?"

"Andrew, _shut up!_ I'll be back in a minute!"

It's only then that it sinks in. Her new job. The strange man.

"You're a…you're a…."

"A prostitute? So?"

"It's just, you're so…" I pause, unable to speak.

"So what? Unappealing? I'll have you know my fan base is very…." She breaks off, coughing, then sighs. "Finnick did it and you just _worshipped_ him!"

"I never said-"

"Let's not talk about it anymore, shall we?"

I groan with frustration. "Am I ever going to get to finish a sentence?"

"Depends."

I wait a long time before I answer her. "I called to tell you my daughter is having her third birthday and I'd like you to come."

"Me?"

"Yes."

There's slight hesitation in her voice when she answers, "No."

"No? We can pay for your tickets-"

"I said no! I'm not coming. I know you have a happy little life with Peeta, and that's just peachy. But I don't want any part of it."

I'm suddenly furious. "I thought we…I thought we were…"

"What? Friends?" She snorts. "As if. I would never want to be close with someone like you." She pauses for a long time. "Andrew's waiting."

"Have fun with him."

She starts to answer and then stops, trying to determine if I'm serious.

"Always do," she says finally, then hangs up.

For a moment, I stand there in stunned silence.

"Well, what she'd say?"

I jump and then turn to find Peeta standing behind me, an expectant look on his face.

"She said...no."

"Oh." He furrows his eyebrows. "Why?"

And then I can't stop laughing. I don't know why-I feel terrible, of course, and the fact that I should probably be sad right now makes it worse, but I can't stop. Through my chuckles I pour the story out to Peeta.

"Well..." He says when I'm done. "I guess that's to be expected."

And we prepare for the party.


	22. Conversation Concerning a 4 Letter Word

Hi Guys!

I'm so, so, SO sorry I didn't update yesterday! I really needed a writing break, and I took one, so here is the next chapter! It's short-only two pages in word-but I hope you still like it. I would have made it longer except I wanted to update and give you all something to read. :)

**253 REVIEWS**

I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY SO I AM GOING TO WRITE IN ALL CAPS. (!)

Let me just say:

**Danke****, grazie, 谢谢****, merci, Gracias...THANK YOU!** (I used Google Translate! hehe...so hopefully it's all right!)

Oh, and thanks to chinqs for pointing out the correct spelling of Hazelle. I will go through and change that! :)

You all are AMAZING! I never dreamed when I posted this that it would get so many reads and reviews. I'm shocked!...and grateful. *hugs* There are a few more chapters of You Love Me left. Of course, I haven't written them, so I can't give you an exact number...but I'm going to guess and say around four or five? Should be finished up by the end of next week! And I also plan on making them long chapters, if I can.

Once again, here's the link to my forum for anyone with questions: fanfiction(dot)net/myforums/HomeschoolGirl/3507025/

THANK YOU SO MUCH!

-Homey ;)

**Disclaimer: **Peeta and Katniss are not mine. Ree is still, technically, Suzanne Collins. Though I wish she was all mine, 'cause she's cute!

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>The party goes on.<p>

It's nothing perfect; not by any means, but it's fun. We have cake and open presents. Ree gets a new stuffed animal, two dolls, some clothes that she will probably never wear, and a few storybooks. I thank everyone for coming and send them home. Mom is the first to go, unsurprisingly. I can tell she hates being back.

"Am I going to see you soon?" I whisper as we embrace.

She freezes for a long moment before pulling away. "You…come see me."

I know that's her way of saying no, she's not coming back. There will be phone calls, and letters, I'm sure-but we're not going to see each other again. Not like this. I don't want to, and she doesn't want to…

"Bye," I say, struggling to swallow. "I-I love you."

She blinks at me for a second before she says, "You, too."

That night, after we tuck Ree into bed, I fall into Peeta's arms and start crying. I cry for the things I should have had: a mother who cared, a father who was present, a sister who would have been thirty-one; probably with a family of her own. It's unfair. And then I cry because I shouldn't be missing these things, but I do.

"Katniss," Peeta whispers as he rocks me back and forth. "I'm so sorry."

"She…she didn't even say 'I love you' back," I whisper. "She couldn't bring herself to because she _doesn't_."

"I'm sure that's not it. You know her, she's…"

"She's horrible."

"I never said-"

I sit up and glare at him. "She's not a mother-not to me. Prim was the one she cared about, who everyone cared about. And when she died it was like…it was like I wasn't enough. I'll never be enough, because I'm too much like my father and-"

Peeta's strokes my hair as I gulp for air, sobbing at the same time. It's a horrible feeling to know someone doesn't want you. This whole time I've been holding onto a silly hope that maybe she was just being distant, that she would come back and everything would be okay, and that Ree would have a grandmother. That, just maybe, I might have a mother. But I don't.

From somewhere deep inside, this gives me motivation. I will be everything Ree needs. I will protect her and love her, cherish her and be there for her. I want to be everything my mother wasn't. I'm going to try.

I repeat all that to Peeta, who just chuckles and kisses my forehead.

"Don't you see, Katniss? You're already all of that, plus some."

"So are you," I reply in a strained voice. "You're better than me."

I can practically hear him roll his eyes. "Let's not get into that, shall we? Let's just say we're both good-no, great-parents who love each other and their daughter."

I nod my head in agreement. I've cried so much, I wonder how I even have any tears left. I guess mine are on unlimited supply.

"Peeta?" I whisper after a moment, as my thoughts have gone in a new direction.

"Yes?"

"Why did…" My words catch in my throat. "Why did we spend all that time apart? How did we even…?"

"I don't know," he admits. "And I'm sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time. I thought I was protecting you. But we both suffered for it, and you shouldn't have had to."

I touch my chin, knowing there is a scar there. A scar that Peeta inflicted on me. I see him follow my hand and then his jaw tightens. He sees it, too.

"That's what I mean," he whispers.

I press my lips together and look up at him. "Don't feel bad."

He laughs bitterly. "Don't _feel_ bad? I hurt you, Katniss! I gave you a scar!"

"What about all these?" I demand, angry, touching his face. "And all these?" I trail my hand hesitantly down his arm. The skin is ravaged. My next words come out softer than before. "I gave you those."

His gaze softens. "No you didn't. Snow did. The Hunger Games did."

I glare at him. "I did, Peeta. You got them because of me."

"And you got that scar because of me, and many others-"

"No-that was my fault, too-"

"Stop being stupid, Katniss. I've hurt you, admit it."

Tears spring to my eyes and I have the sudden urge to hit something, anything. "I wish you'd quit taking the blame for everything. It makes it so much worse."

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

I shake my head. It's the easiest thing to do, especially since I can't talk without bursting into tears.

"Why are you so upset?" He whispers.

I shake my head fervently. "It's…nothing…"

He frowns when he sees the scarlet in my cheeks. "You're blushing, you're crying…what did I say? I didn't think I…" Then it seems to dawn on him, and I see the corners of his mouth twitch. That makes me madder.

"Am I funny, Peeta?"

"Katniss," he murmurs, struggling to keep his voice even. "Are you crying because I called you stupid?"

I shake my head, taking my pillow and pressing it to my mouth.

He sighs. "You're not…you're not stupid."

I burst out laughing then, a mix of chuckles and tears. The whole instance is just so strange and I'm tired and it's late…

"Are you okay?" Peeta asks when my hysterics have yet to stop.

I nod, then let out a laugh. "I'm f-fine." A sob.

"Do you need something to drink? I can-"

"_No_!" Laugh. Gasp. Sob. Laugh.

Peeta just stares with a concerned look on his face which makes it worse.

"Why-" Laugh. "Aren't you-" Sob. "Smiling?" Laugh.

He touches my cheek and then reconsiders, pulling me into his lap. "You have officially gone crazy, Katniss."

"I know," I say quietly, calming some.

He kisses the top of my head. "But I love you."

Three words. Words he said but my mother couldn't Words he'll say everyday for the rest of our life together.

"I love you, too."


	23. Him Her Us Life

Hi Guys! :)

I. Made. **313 REVIEWS**.

*passes out*

HOW DID I MAKE THREE HUNDRED THIRTEEN REVIEWS?

OMW! (Oh my word.) I wasn't even aiming for 300, much less OVER 300. That's...AMAZING.

THANK YOU ALL!

Okay, so, onto another note: this chapter spans several months, it's relatively fast-paced, and yes, I went through the task of once again picking a name. I'm not sure the name is right. I'm not sure I even like it. (But, hint: REE LIKES IT!) haha.

To be honest, there's not much more I can do with the rest of _You Love Me_, so the next couple chapters or so will be pretty...normal. No drama. Just married/kid life for Katniss. After all, she's almost forty. (!) Poor girl deserves a break.

Now, I will say this: I have two HG fanfics IN THE WORKS. One is in my head, the other is just beginning on paper. (er...Word). I'll tell you more about them later, in my author's notes, when I update. I'm not sure they'll get any reads. Who knows: you might be rolling your eyes this very second. ("WHAT IS SHE THINKING? WASN'T THIS ENOUGH?") But they'll be here, eventually. One will be a oneshot and the rest will span several chapters, much like this one. One will deal with Peeta and Katniss...the others, notsomuch. :) I'm excited to tell you more. But I must be all vague and mysterious at the moment, so...*pulls sunglasses over eyes, adjusts trenchcoat*

Hopefully this chapter isn't too horrible! It's not my best! :P (I promise that is NOT me fishing for compliments...feel free to tear this apart. Okay, well, don't do that...) Oh, well. I wanted to get something out there. And yes, I am once again a day late for updating. (-_-) I'm SO SORRY!

Okay! I'm done!

-Homey ;D

**Disclaimer: **Suzanne Collins. Need I say more?

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>I find out about <em>him<em> because I'm late-two weeks late. It doesn't hit me until I'm in the kitchen, making breakfast for Ree. I've had cramps, sure. I've been moody, yes. But I haven't had my period.

"Oh my god," I whisper, and the egg I'm holding slips through my fingers and hits onto the floor, spilling its gel-like insides all over the floor.

"Mama!" Ree exclaims from her highchair. "Mama you da-ropped the egg!"

"Yes, I did," I whisper. "Let me…let me clean that up."

When I don't move, she giggles.

"You're bein' silly!"

I force myself to turn and smile at her. "How would you like Grandpa Haymitch to come and play with you for a little while?"

"Yes! Make Grandpa Hay come!"

I laugh, despite myself. "Okay. You sit there and be good, and I'll be right back."

Before Ree can reply, I go charging out the door, toward Haymitch's house. I open his front door without knocking to find him sitting at his kitchen table, looking at pictures of someone.

"Haymitch! I need you to watch Ree!"

He looks up, hearing the urgency in my voice. "Okay."

A moment later I've ushered him outside and back into the house, where I explain she needs to be fed and there's a mess to clean up on the floor.

"When will you be back?" Haymitch calls after me as I run off.

"Soon!" I reply. "I'll be back soon!" And maybe with a child inside me.

Peeta's bakery isn't far from the house, so it's only five minutes later that I open the front door. A bell jingles cheerfully above me.

"Hi, Allison," I say to the woman behind the counter. "Is Peeta here?"

She nods and smiles-chipper as ever. "Sure is! Hey, I've been meaning to talk to you. See, I have some old clothes-"

I brush past her before she can finish, calling out an apology as I go.

I find Peeta in the kitchen, decorating a cake. He looks up and sees me, smiling broadly. Stupidly, I stumble over my feet and go crashing into the counter, sending various baking dishes clattering to the floor.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I say, as two of the glass bread pans shatter.

Peeta shrugs, already armed with a broom and dustpan. He gives my cheek an airy kiss before he starts sweeping up the mess.

"You don't usually come see me at work…is something wrong? Not that it isn't a _very_ nice surprise." He looks up at me, grinning. "Maybe we could get away, and go back to my old house for an hour or two…" He trails off, noticing my blank expression for the first time. He drops the broom and that, too, goes clattering to the floor.

"Katniss? Is something wrong?"

"I…I…"

He strides forward, taking my shoulders in his hands. "Is it Ree? Is she hurt? Did something happen to Haymitch? Katniss, _talk to me_."

And then I burst into tears.

* * *

><p>After my short-lived (and unnecessary) hysterics are over, I spill out the story to Peeta. We rush to the town's only store and buy several pregnancy tests, which I proceed to take at his house. They all come back positive.<p>

"I don't…I don't…" I stammer as I hold the little while stick in my hand. It's amazing how much a piece of plastic can change your life.

Peeta wraps his arms around me. "Ree will have a brother…or sister."

I can't bring myself to respond, only stare blankly before me.

"Katniss?" He asks after a moment. "Is…are you okay with this?"

I manage a nod. "Just surprised, I guess."

"And you want this, right?" He asks slowly, like I'm a child.

I glare at him. "Well, I don't have much choice, do I?"

His gaze gets lets intense, less worried, and strokes my cheekbones with his thumb. Cupping my face in his hands, like I'm a fragile treasure, he brings my lips to his.

"What was that for?" I ask as soon as we pull away.

He smiles at me. "For being so brave."

I cross my arms and step away. "I'm not brave, Peeta. I'm the exact opposite of brave. I'm…un-brave."

He cracks a smile. "Un-brave?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Whatever! You know I'm not good with words!"

"But you're great at everything else."

I shake my head, clutching my stomach. "I don't know what to do."

Peeta takes me in his arms, dropping a kiss on my head.

"We'll do what we have to," he says.

* * *

><p>This pregnancy is easier than the one with Ree. We wait a few months before we go to the Capitol hospital and see a real obstetrician this time, instead of Dr. Aurelius. We ask the gender. It's a boy.<p>

Eventually, halfway through my second trimester, we begin to tell people. Everyone in District Twelve already knows, of course, seeing as my stomach is protruding, but they act surprised anyway. When Effie asks to throw a baby shower, I say yes. I might as well please somebody.

The shower goes off without a hitch, and everyone comes. (minus Johanna...) As I sit on the couch, accepting gifts and congratulations, I feel truly happy. As a young teenager, I would have never envisioned this life for myself. But here I am, only a couple years from forty, and I'm undeniably glad I took this path. The one with Peeta. It was dangerous, foreign, but what I needed most.

Ree is bursting with excitement for her little brother and chatters about him nonstop. We even tell her she can name him when he comes, at which she looks at us and simply says, "His name is Fluffy."

Peeta bursts out laughing at that and when we climb into bed that night, we joke that maybe, just maybe, we might have a son named Fluffy. But probably not.

"I never even knew I wanted him," Peeta whispers as he holds me.

I nod in agreement. "Me either. But that's the thing about babies. They…they creep up on you when you least expect them. They're miracles."

Peeta lightly touches my stomach. "They're everything."

I grin up at him. "Like you."

He nods his agreement. "Like you, Katniss."

* * *

><p>Our newest addition comes at two in the morning. One second I'm lying asleep peacefully, the next I'm groaning and shaking Peeta awake.<p>

"I'll be back," he says, and goes to get hot water.

This birth is not as painful, but uncomfortable as ever. When we are greeted by the sound of our baby wailing, I start to cry. Peeta wraps him in a soft blanket and hands him to me. I stare down at the little, blinking boy before me.

"He's beautiful," I whisper.

Peeta leans over to get a better look at him. "He's like you."

I beam.

We eventually decide to wake Ree up, who comes bounding into the room like it's three o'clock in the afternoon, not three o'clock at night. She climbs up onto our bed and settles beside me, her head is a mess of brown curls and her blue eyes are sparkling.

"Can I touch him?" She murmurs upon seeing his face.

I nod. "He's your little brother, Ree."

She reaches out and runs a finger down his cheek. "He's so tiny. Was I that tiny?" She looks horrified at the prospect then adds, "And that _red_?"

I laugh and nod. "Yes, but you grew out of it. And he will, too."

"Good, because right now he's kind of ugly."

"Ree!" I exclaim, chuckling. I look down at him. "He's…he's the most beautiful boy in the whole world. Kind of like you were the most beautiful girl."

Peeta nods his agreement and sits on the end of the bed. "Like mommy is the most gorgeous woman in the world."

I stare at him, a smirk-like mile playing across my lips. "And like your father is the best thing that ever happened to me."

Ree looks back and forth between us, then giggles. "Are you going to kiss?"

Peeta looks at her, then to me, and grins. "Yup."

He closes the distance between us, being careful not to lean on the baby, and kisses me deeply. I close my eyes, concentrating on the feel of his lips against mine and the baby in my arms and the giggles of my daughter beside us.

"Mommy!" Ree exclaims with a giggle. "You're making a fish face."

I pull away, slightly dazed. "I guess I am." I turn to Peeta. "The names?"

We have been working on a list of options for several weeks now. He ticks them off, already having them memorized, not that they're that original or complicated. "Michael, Jack, Samuel, Logan..."

I wrinkle my nose. "Definitely not Logan. Definitely not Samuel."

Peeta nods in agreement and turns to Ree. "Okay, girl, you have the deciding vote. What's it going to be: Jack or Michael?"

She mumbles something incoherent.

"What was that, honey?" I ask sweetly, looking down at my soon to be Jack and/or Michael. "He's getting restless. I bet he _really_ wants a name."

Ree swallows and looks down. "Abe."

Peeta looks at her. "Jack or Michael?"

"Abe," she says, a bit louder. When we don't respond, she glares. "You said I could name him."

"We did..." I say, looking at Peeta. "Well?"

"Well," he says, exhaling. "Abe it is."

Ree claps her hands joyfully. "Abe! Abe! I _love_ it, Mommy. Hi, Abe! How are you, Abe! Abe, you're really ugly!"

My eyes meet Peeta's as Ree fusses over the newly Christened Abe.

He nods once, swiftly.

Abe it is.


	24. Star Crossed Lovers

Hey Everyone! :D

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I'm sorry about the technical difficulties with the last chapter. :P The site malfunctions sometimes and the chapter disappears, so I had to completely re-load the last one. And it worked, so, yay!

All right, so. This will be the last chapter. (WAIT CALM DOWN LET ME FINISH...Oh. Did you say "Whatever"? Okay. Um. All right.) :D

There will be an Epilogue, though! I'll post that tomorrow!

And when I post the epilogue, I'll also post the first chapter of my new Fanfic. :) And give you some info on it. I think ya'll will like it!

Anyway, I hope this last chapter is satisfying. It would be AWESOME if I can almost-possibly-maybe get to 400 reviews? But I don't know if I can or not. Maybe once I post the epilogue I can. LOL!

Thank you guys SO MUCH for taking the time to read _You Love Me_...that's AMAZING. I began this story on March 10...uploaded it...and here we are. It's amazing! But please-remember that there's technically gonna be one more "Chapter". :) So don't say your goodbyes yet! PLEASE I DON'T LIKE GOODBYES! lol

*hugs*

-Homey :)

**Disclaimer: **Suzanne Collins did something incredible: she created a world that everyone loves, despite it's flaws. She created amazing characters that held you in every scene. She created the perfect, love-story pairing in Peeta and Katniss, a couple that ranks up high on my "Best Couples Ever" list. And no, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth are NOT on that list! I fell in love with her story, as many others did, and I've been fortunate enough to write about it and get reviews. Which is amazing. :)

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>Abe quickly becomes part of our daily routine. He, unlike Ree, is a quiet baby. Whereas she fussed and wailed, he's calm and silent. Until, of course, he sees his older sister. That's the only thing that sends him off into a frenzy. He gets excited, he wriggles, he makes incoherent noises, and he won't be still until her arms are around him.<p>

Ree thinks this is just about the best thing ever. She relentlessly talks about Abe, too. If we go grocery shopping, she stops people to tell them all about her new brother. Allison at the bakery gives her a cookie decorated to look like little Abe and Ree refuses to eat it, even when I remind her it has frosting.

"I am _not_ eating my bro-der!"

"I'm not asking you to eat your brother-"

"No! It's _rude_."

"No, honey, really it's not…"

"Shut up!"

"Ree! Don't tell me to do that!"

"Well, you and daddy do it all the time."

Peeta walks in to us glaring at each other, spitting out arguments, Ree holding her own like a pro-fighter.

"What's going on here?" He says with a chuckle.

I roll my eyes. "She's refusing to eat a cookie."

"Daddy! Mommy rolled her eyes! I get in trouble for doing that!"

Peeta looks at me helplessly and shrugs. "It's okay for mommies to do that, Ree."

"Liar! Pants on fire!"

I throw my arms up helplessly and march into the kitchen. "She's your daughter, Peeta. You need to discipline her."

Peeta just grins at me. "Actually, Katniss, I think she's your carbon copy."

I take a look at her one more time-eyes flashing, brown hair wild, hands on her hips, the epitome of a diva four-year-old. Oh, god. She _is_ me!

Peeta spots the horrified look on my face and his smile gets wider. "We should have just named her Katniss."

Ree lowers her arms and smiles. "Like you, mommy?"

I struggle to keep from laughing. "Actually, you're a lot like me. Now, let's not fight anymore, shall we? I think it's time to get Abe up from his nap."

"Okay."

The fight is forgotten.

* * *

><p>I soon learn that moments like that are precious jewels, and mine for the taking. Motherhood is completely different with two. There's more laughter, more fun, more late nights spent feeding a hungry baby and holding a wastebasket to your almost-preschooler's mouth so she can throw up.<p>

Then there are the moments, like our first hike in the woods. Abe, only four months of age, has to be held by me. Ree tags along, holding a little walking stick (basically just a stick) and being guided forward by Peeta's steady hands. We make it about a half a mile before she collapses on us, insisting she can't go one step further.

"Maybe you're more like your father when it comes to this," I say, half-teasing.

Peeta glares at me, kissing me a second later to take the sting out of that action.

It really is true, though. We soon find Ree has my spirited personality, but loves to help Peeta bake. She goes to work with him sometimes and learns to make cookies and other delicious treats. Peeta says she has an artists' hands.

When I try to take her hunting, she won't go very far into the woods, and she cries when I kill a rabbit. I get the silent treatment from her for two days for that one. She only speaks to me again after spending a day in the bakery with Peeta, presenting me with a plate of sugar cookies and a forgiving smile.

Abe, however, takes his first steps in our garden when he's only eight months old. After that, I can't get him to stop walking. As he hits his first birthday, I take him out into the woods, where we spend a day together playing in the grass and eating fruit. Ree and Peeta stay home to bake him a cake.

"He loves the outdoors," I tell Peeta as we drift off to sleep one night. "I'm glad he does, because we'll be able to do so many things together."

"And Ree loves baking," Peeta says with a yawn, arms winding around my waist. "And painting. But she's just like you."

"Except I burn things and she's five and she doesn't even do that."

Peeta chuckles. "Yeah. There's that."

Parenthood suits us both. I'm glad to have two children as well, since they love each other to death and often play together. Haymitch babysits for us on a regular basis. He suffers the abuse of name-calling and wrestling, and once we even come home to find him wearing makeup-my makeup-which Ree insisted putting on him.

"Wow, Haymitch. You look hot," Peeta says as we walk in, earning a sneer from our former mentor.

"Least I'm hotter than you, Peeta."

"I can't agree with you, I'm afraid," I say, turning and kissing Peeta gently.

* * *

><p>Abe soon turns two, and I present him with his very own bow and arrow.<p>

"Whoa," he whispers as I hand it to him. I've made it myself, labored over it long nights, and it's perfectly child-sized, with blunt tips so he can't hurt himself. Or anything else, for that matter. They're more for practice than anything.

"Do you like it?"

He nods. "When can I play it?"

"Whenever you want. Do you want to go out into the woods?"

"Yes."

So we go, packing a picnic of bread and cheese with us. It is there he spends most of his time over the next few months, shooting his arrows and playing with the animals and making leaf crowns for Ree.

I teach him which plants are edible, even though Peeta says he's too young. I don't think so. Abe quickly catches on and I find he's much smarter than he's letting on. I feel bad for not noticing sooner, but Peeta tells me he thought he was just average, too. Whatever average is.

But that's not the case. Abe is brilliant for his age. He retains information easily, and Peeta and I both know he didn't get that from us. It's just a natural thing for him. When he turns three, and Ree six, we enroll them both in school. There's a little preschool-type class for Abe, but Ree goes to regular day school.

"How was class today?" I ask as she bounds in one afternoon.

"Super. I have a boyfriend."

"You do?" I ask as I hand her a glass of milk.

She sips it slowly. "Yup. His name is Thomas."

"Thomas? Would that be Thom's son?"

She grins and smiles.

"But…honey…he's in high school."

"So? Age doesn't matter. That's what Mrs. Rudolph says, anyways. She's sixty-four but her husband is only twenty-two!"

I have Ree switch teachers after that.

Abe, too, enjoys school. He only has a four-hour day, so we send them both off in the morning and I go to pick him up around lunchtime. We walk to the woods most days, spend the afternoon there, and head back to the house, where we cook whatever bounty I got from hunting. Ree usually walks from school to the bakery, where she eats a snack and makes bread with Peeta.

Overall, our lives are full, and normal. I talk to my friends weekly. Effie gets calls, as does Flavius, Octavia, and Venia. Sometimes I even talk to mom, though those instances are less frequent. She tells me she'll send Ree and Abe presents in the mail.

She never does.

The bakery gets good business; so much that Peeta has to expand it. District Twelve grows and blossoms, and I can only be thankful that my children never had to live in the world I did. We are no longer poverty-stricken weaklings. We are whole.

Now when I speak of Twelve, I do it with pride. Because we are something. We used to be the underdogs, but we found that we could be strong. We found that we could take the foundations of family we had built, and turned it into something.

It's amazing what damage can be done when you fight. Things can be torn down more quickly than it took to build them up. We, as humans, teeter precariously on the edge of good and bad. Oftentimes, we lean both directions. We lean opposite directions. We lean away from each other.

But it is the moments where we lean the same direction, a united force, that changes so many lives. It makes the world livable, and it unifies us. That's what happened with the uprising. It should've been done sooner. I suppose it's funny that it took two kids from District Twelve, supposed star-crossed lovers, to make it happen.

And now that I think about it, maybe we were star-crossed lovers. Maybe there was truth to that story. Because I fought it. I fought falling in love and it hurt me so many times. Peeta was there, of course, to pick up the broken pieces. But I'm the one who went against my self, against my own wants and thoughts and hungers.

Love is a dangerous thing. It's thin and fragile, a little web strung between two lives that, if broken, might be beyond repair. It takes willing hands to patch it up again, willing hearts. And it's scary.

It took me a long time to love Ree and Abe. Longer than it should have. It wasn't until I held them in my arms that I saw them for what they were: two beautiful children, my children, and a part of me. And then I wanted them more than anything.

It took me a long time to stop loving my mother. I held onto this invisable hope that, somehow, she would want me. So I guess the stubbornness goes both ways.

And I _really_ didn't want to love Peeta. I kissed him, I tried to keep him alive, but I didn't truly love him until we were back in Twelve. It was then, when I was broken and sorry and falling apart, that I truly loved him. Because I saw it, in his eyes, the way he said my name, the countless hours he held me when I had nightmares. I saw what love really is. In a place like Panem, it wasn't showcased. People sent their children off to be killed without a fight. My mother ignored Prim and I. People like Gale had to work in the mines because their families did nothing to stop it.

My story isn't what I thought it was. It's not a life of hatred and lying, deceit and killing. It's a story of when things changed. Because I stood up. Peeta made me stand up. We stood up together and, for the first time in the history of Panem, we fought and won.

Grudges are strong. But letting it go, hugging someone, telling them you love them, is stronger. It always will be.

* * *

><p>I go up to Peeta one evening, after dinner, and kiss him, he smiles.<p>

"What was that for?" He asks, keeping his hands on my waist.

I look at the family around me: Abe, smiling and playing with stones; Ree, painting on a piece of paper; Haymitch watching them happily, making his own sketch. I turn to Peeta and I kiss him again.

"Because I love you," I whisper, keeping his forehead to mine. "I love you more than anything."

He grins. "I love you, too."

"Good," I say, pulling back. "Because you're going to have to spend the rest of your life with me."

He pretends to be shocked. "Well…I guess I've had worse things happen to me."

I smirk. "Come here, you liar."

And I kiss him again.


	25. Epilogue

Hi Guys!

This is it. The last chapter.

ARGH! I don't know what to say except this:

**THANK YOU**

And I mean that, too. I would not have finished this without you guys. The encouragement, the comments...everything was AMAZING. So thank you so much. I also wanted to share my total stats for the story:

Words: 45,506

Pages: 94

Paragraphs: 2,110

THAT IS AMAZING! And I wrote it in less than a month! *falls over*

I've never written ANYTHING this fast, and it's because of you guys! :)

Okay, so, time for the big reveal. My upcoming HG fanfics to look forward to:

_Thorns_: They said he had a granddaughter. They also said he loved roses. She is both of those.

I always wondered what happened in the final Hunger Games, so I'm gonna write it, with President Snow's granddaughter as the star. :D I don't know if it'll be good or not...but I have the first chapter, and I'm updating today.

Okay, second one. This will be a oneshot, and I got the idea from PiperPaigeP3 who wrote something about it in one of her comments.

_The Questions They Ask_: They ask. She will try to answer. But it's going to be hard.

That will be about, basically, the questions Ree and Abe ask and how Katniss and Peeta answer them. I should have it up sometime this month, so keep an eye out for it!

Other than that, I don't have much else that's going to be posted. For any House of Anubis lovers, I started a fanfic for that and posted the first chapter last night. Really, it's a series of oneshots following all of the characters ten years from now. :) So it'll be short.

I made it to **373** reviews, which is AMAZING. :D THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!

To everyone who has ever commented, favorited, added me to their favorite authors, added this to their story alert subscriptions...thank you. Seriously, it's helped so much. The feedback...everything. I appreciate it! An author's greatest support are their fans, so this meant a lot. Well, coffee helps, too. Lots and lots of coffee.

ARGH! I DON'T WANT TO SAY GOODBYE! So...uh...*thinking of Teen Mom episode I saw last night* See ya later! ;)

*hugs, hugs, hugs, hugs, hugs*

-Homey :)

P.S. HAHA! I win for longest author's note EVER! ;)

P.P.S. THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!

**Disclaimer: **I fell in love with a little book called _The Hunger Games_, written by Suzanne Collins. So did the rest of the world.

You know the drill: ©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>She is eight, he is four.<p>

They are twirling, holding hands, springing blithely through the grass in a dance that mesmerizes me. Peeta squeezes my hand as we watch them.

"It's time for lunch," I call at last, hating to interrupt them.

Ree brushes her hair back from her face and closes her eyes. "The sun feels so warm, mama. How come we don't go here more often?"

Because it's a graveyard, Ree. Because the dead our buried here. People I loved.

"I don't know," I say at last, managing to keep my voice even. "We should."

She grins, plopping down next to Peeta. Abe worms his way into my lap.

"You're too big," I groan playfully.

He turns around and offers me a smile. I pucker my lips and he leans in to give me a kiss, giggling when I tickle his stomach.

Ree springs forward to get him under the arms, and his laughter echoes through the woods. Peeta smiles, pulling her back and sitting her down.

"Okay. Time to eat."

We slowly snack on our picnic lunch of sandwiches and lemonade. Ree pulls some sugar cookies out of the basket and sets the plate on the grass. She made them by herself, no help from Peeta. She's been doing that a lot lately.

"These are delicious," I say, plucking a cookie from the tray and taking a bite. They really are. "They taste like your dad made them."

Ree raises her eyebrows. "I made them by myself."

I laugh at her disgruntled expression. "I know, honey. That's a compliment."

"Oh!" She furrows her eyebrows, considering. "Okay, thanks."

"Yummy," Abe says, taking the last bite of his cookie. "Thanks, sissy."

"You're welcome, Abe."

There's a long silence where we eat, enjoying each other's company. At last, Ree stands and bounds back into the center of the meadow, closely followed by her brother.

"It's so tall!" She exclaims, plucking a piece of grass from the ground.

"I know," I say with a giggle.

Peeta scoots closer to me as we watch them. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me close, laying me down at the same time.

"So," he says, hovering over me. I smile up at him.

"So," I say back.

He brings his lips to mine. I wrap my hand around his neck to secure them there, and I can feel his lips as they pull up in a grin. I smile back.

"Kissing alert!" Ree suddenly yells.

I jump, bumping noses with Peeta. He grimaces and frowns.

"Well, that was a way to ruin a moment."

Ree comes over, puffing out her chest, and places her hands on our faces.

"You need to keep a distance of three inches apart, and no lip contact! None! Unless you want me to loose my lunch."

I giggle, taking her hand and kissing it. "Deal. I don't feel like smelling throw up right now away."

She grins and turns, sprinting away. "All clear, Abe! You can stop covering your eyes!"

Peeta chuckles and turns toward me. "Apparently we're going to have to be sneaky with this."

I smile back. "So we are."

We get in a few more kisses, but not many, before Ree interrupts us again. She really does look a little green, so I get up to go play with the kids. Soon we're playing a game of tag, all four of us, and I tackle Peeta.

"Tag," I whisper as he falls back, me on top of him.

He grins and kisses my nose. Then I feel his hand lightly tap my back and he's gone, left me laying on the ground by myself.

"You're it!" He exclaims.

I laugh.

"Peeta Mellark, you _cheated_."

"Did not," he says in a mock-child's voice.

I get up and lunge toward him.

As I'm running around, grinning, I realize today was a good day. The third one in a row. Earlier this week, though, Peeta had a hallucination and I had a nightmare. All in the same evening. I remember how I had to lock our door and hope the kids wouldn't hear any of it. That was a bad day. A really bad one.

We're not free like people think we are. The hallucinations have not stopped, and sometimes I still get the nightmares. After times like those, I can help feeling put-out for several days afterwards. Luckily, we've been busy, so I haven't had time to mull over it.

Every day is a battle. It's hard not to give in to temptation and lay down, let my misery swallow me. It's because of my kids that I don't. They make things worth it. But it's still difficult.

Then again, days like these make the world fall away, make the deaths slide off my shoulders. I feel happy, like nothing could ever hurt me. When things do get bad, though, I play a game. I make lists of everything good in my life. Oftentimes, I find that the good outweighs the bad, and that's enough to keep me going.

The questions are just beginning, so that brings back everything fresh. I don't know how I'll answer them. For Ree, I can be a bit more truthful, but at Abe's age I'll need to polish over anything too horrible.

But I want them to know. I want them to know about Prim, and my dad, and Gale. I want them to know it was him who kept me alive, and my sister. I want them to know that Annie used to have a husband named Finnick and he was handsome and kind. I want them to know about everyone who saved me. I owe that to not only my kids, but the ones who died. The ones who they won't ever know.

I know I'm lucky. I was one of the few to get out of the rebellion alive. Others didn't. But I'm not unscathed. The scars I see every time I look in the mirror are a reminder of that, as are the nights I wake up screaming.

"I love you Ree," I say suddenly, pulling my daughter close. I kiss her hair. "I love you, too, Abe."

He smiles, as does she.

"We love you, too," she whispers.

Peeta comes up behind me, placing a hand on my slightly swollen stomach, which will only get bigger these next few months.

I turn toward him, smiling, leaning forward to brush our lips together.

"_You Love Me_," I say suddenly, my eyes boring into his. "Real or not real?"

He doesn't even hesitate. "Real."


	26. The Questions They Ask: Bonus Oneshot

Hi Guys!

So, here is a bonus oneshot as thanks for all of the reviews. I'll have you know I have read each and every one, and I love them so much. A giant thank you from me for all of the time you spent reading _You Love Me_. It means a lot. All of you: *hugs*

Enjoy! I love your reviews. Thank you so much.

-Homey :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. (nor Abe and Ree, though I did name them)

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>"Mommy, how did you meet daddy?" Ree asked.<p>

Katniss stopped stirring that evening's soup. She looked down at her little daughter, a precious gem in her life, and bounced Abe on her hip.

"Well, daddy and I…" She paused, considering. "I met him one day when it was raining. I was very hungry, and I hadn't had food in a long time. Daddy gave me some of his bread so I wouldn't be hungry anymore."

Ree's eyes grew big as saucers. "The same kind we make?"

"Uh-huh."

"But…then…didn't you eat it?"

Katniss went back to stirring. "Yes. It was excellent."

"But if you ate it how do we still have the same bread?"

Katniss laughed, stooping over to kiss her daughter's head of dark hair. "Ree, you are the silliest girl I know. It's not the same loaf of bread, sweetheart. Just the same recipe."

Ree nodded and smiled. "Okay."

Katniss breathed a sigh of relief. For now, it was over.

* * *

><p>The next big question came when Ree was seven. She came home from school, skipping happily, and sat down at the counter.<p>

"Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" Katniss and Abe were skinning a rabbit at the sink. Ree looked at it and wrinkled her nose, unfazed.

"What is The Hungry Games?"

Katniss froze. "The Hungry Games?"

"Yeah."

She looked down at Abe. "Sweetie, do you want to go pick some flowers for momma? Okay? Stay right outside." She ushered her son out the door, then turned back to Ree, heading over to the sink to wash the blood off of her hands.

"It's called The Hunger Games," she said, turning the tap off. "And the best I can explain is that a very bad man created it once long ago. He wasn't nice or good, like Grandpa Haymitch. He made it so children would fight children."

Ree's lower lip trembled. "She said they died."

"Who said they died, sweetheart?"

"My teacher. She said the kids died."

Katniss turned away from the sink to face Ree, stooping down in front of her. She kissed her forehead. "They did, sweetheart, but that was a long time ago. It doesn't happen anymore. It won't happen ever again."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Ree. I promise."

* * *

><p>Abe caught on faster than his sister, and asked his first question at age six. He'd been watching Katniss all day, as if studying her. Then, ever so slowly, he sidled up to her. He asked to go hunting in the woods.<p>

As they walked, side-by-side, bows and arrows hanging limp in their hands, he turned and studied her.

"Ree said you fought kids when you were little."

Katniss stilled. Abe walked ahead of her several feet, then turned around and sat down. He was so serious, so serene…it unnerved her.

"I did," Katniss said at last, wondering how her nine-year-old daughter knew.

"Did you kill anyone?"

Katniss started to shake her head, and then sighed. "Well, honey, it's very complicated. I didn't want to be a part of it. Back before you were born, a long time ago, the world wasn't a happy place. Now it is."

"Did you kill anyone?"

She sighed shakily. "Just…one. He hurt my friend and I was very mad."

"Okay."

He left it at that, and they returned to hunting.

* * *

><p>Katniss locked Peeta in their bedroom, giving him a moment to calm down. She trudged down the stairs. Her hands were still shaking.<p>

"Mommy?" Ree asked as Katniss hit the last step. She looked at her daughter. She was crying, and trembling.

"What is it, sweetie?" Katniss asked, taking her in her arms.

Ree hesitantly wrapped her arms around her mother's frame. She buried her face in her shoulder and breathed deeply. "Why does daddy try to hurt you?"

Katniss pulled back, kissing her daughter's forehead. "He doesn't, honey."

"He tried to grab you. I saw it. You looked scared."

"No, he was just-"

"You sent us to Haymitch's."

Haymitch stood in the doorway, Katniss noted, looking at her with disproval.

She nodded. "Yes, I did. But only to protect you."

"But why?" Ree pulled back. "Why would daddy hurt you?"

"Oh, honey." Katniss touched her newly ten-year-old's cheek. "He doesn't want to, sweetie. He just can't help it."

* * *

><p>Ree was just thirteen when she came at Katniss with something in her hands, absolutely frantic. She shoved the item in her mother's face and Katniss instantly recognized the worn cover of the memory book. She, Peeta, Johanna, and her own mother had written it together.<p>

"What's this?" Ree demanded, voice shaking.

"A book, Ree," Katniss said, groaning as she stretched her limbs. So much for getting a nap. This was going to be a hard conversation.

"Why does it have so many dead people in it?" She sat down next to her mother, opened to a random page, and jabbed her finger down. She hand landed on Prim's section of the novel, and was pointing directly to a picture of her.

"Who's that?" Ree asked through gritted teeth.

"Your aunt, Ree," Katniss said softly.

"My aunt? I don't have an aunt!"

"Yes, you do." Katniss took the book from her and flipped lovingly through the pages. "This is Prim, my sister. She died a long time ago."

For a moment, Ree was silent.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked at last, in a soft, broken voice.

Katniss wiped a tear from her cheek. "It's hard to talk about."

"Mom, it's okay. I'll listen."

Katniss took her daughter's hand. "I know you will."

* * *

><p>"Dad, who is Haymitch-really?"<p>

Peeta, up to his elbows in flour, was _so_ not ready for this question. He dusted his hands on his apron and went out from behind the counter. He had recently expanded the bakery, which allowed for more kitchen space and even more seating. Right now it was deserted, enveloping the room in rare silence. That was, of course, minus the fourteen-year-old boy standing before him.

"Have a seat, Abe," Peeta said, sliding into a booth.

Abe sat, wiping tears from his cheeks. It was then Peeta knew what had happened.

"He's gone?"

Abe nodded. "His gone. And I…I never got to say goodbye."

"How is your mother?"

He sniffed. "Fine, as usual. She was crying a little bit but then she stopped. Ree's a mess. She locked herself in her room."

Peeta sighed. "We should get home. They need us. We'll have to start making funeral preparations."

Abe's jaw clenched. "I asked a question. Who is Haymitch. Dad, who was Haymitch? I know he's not our grandpa."

"He acted like a grandpa to you, and that should be enough."

Abe glared a Peeta, exasperated. "But it's not enough, Dad! I want to know!"

"You want to know? Fine." Peeta stared at the ceiling, and his voice softened. "Haymitch was a well-meaning drunkard when we met him. He was our mentor in the Hunger Games, as he had won in the past. He had a soft spot for your mother and came to love her. When you guys were born, he came to love you."

"So he's not our grandpa."

Peeta shook his head. "Not by blood. But sometimes, family isn't defined by who shares the same genes. It's who loves you unconditionally. Haymitch loved you, Abe. More than you will ever know."

"I loved him, too." Abe said, staring straight ahead. "I wished I could've said goodbye. I never got the chance."

Peeta reached over to grasp his son's hand. "He knew, Abe. He knew."

Abe nodded and raised his head. His eyes were a bit puffy on the edges.

"Go on home, son, and I'll be right behind you."

He nodded and headed for the front door. Only when he was gone did Peeta allow a few tears to spill, staining his floury hands with saltwater.

Only then did he allow himself to cry.

* * *

><p>"What's the real story?"<p>

Both Katniss and Peeta looked at each other across the table. Apparently, Ree and Abe had been talking. The question poured out of their mouths at tip-top speed, in perfectly rehearsed unison at that.

"I don't understand what you mean," Katniss said at last, taking a sip of water.

"How did you guys really meet? How did you fall in love? How did Cinna and Prim die? Where's our grandmother?"

"Who's Gale?" Abe tacked on at last.

Ree nodded. The eighteen-year-old girl had grown into a beauty. She would be heading off to college in a few days. Katniss would miss her.

"The real story," Peeta said, as if to clarify.

Both children nodded.

Katniss stole a look at her husband. The years had treated them well. Despite his age, he was still as handsome and loving as ever. His hair was edged in gray, and the little stubble that lined his face was like salt and pepper.

The hallucinations had finally come to an end about three years ago. The change was welcome. Katniss's nightmares had ended as well. The couple had truly come full circle. Here they were, with children their own age, yet so much had changed.

"It started a long time ago," Katniss said slowly. "I woke up, and the other side of the bed was cold. I stretched my fingers out, looking for Prim's warmth, but she was gone. I knew she had probably climbed into bed with our mother. It was the day of the reaping, and she was afraid. We were all afraid."

Peeta squeezed her hand under the table. It was just enough. Katniss continued. Despite it being difficult, she kept talking.

She told them the truth.


	27. Please Read

Please Read:

Hello!

I just had to post this because, well, **I GOT UP TO FIVE HUNDRED REVIEWS!**

Oh. My. Gosh.

You all are SO AMAZING! I hope you know that! Thank you to EVERY single person that has reviewed!

So, I figured ya'll deserved something. Don't know if this is even proper payback, or whatever, but still!

**If you've reviewed You Love Me, send me a PM with a oneshot idea. I'll write and publish TEN of the best one shot ideas, and I'll make sure to dedicate it to whoever sent the idea to me. :)**

Is there a scenario that you'd like me to write? Go ahead and send it in!

Only things:

**1) I do not do boy/boy girl/girl couples. **

**2) Cannot make anything higher than a T. I don't do rated M! **

**3) Must be an original idea-please do not copy off of someone else! **

**4) I'll use my existing H/G characters. For example, if you say, "I want a oneshot about Katniss and Peeta's daughter!" Then I'll use Ree. :)**

I'm** offline for this next week**, but I'll be back after that. So, send your oneshot ideas in! Your ideal oneshot could be chosen!

I can't thank you guys enough!

*hugs*

-Homey


	28. One: Protective

Title: **Protective **

Oneshot Number: **One (1/10)**

Premise: **Peeta's a little protective of Ree. **

Why I liked it: **Protective dads are fun to write! **

This oneshot is dedicated to **LittleMissMusical**, who sent me the oneshot idea. Thanks for reading _You Love Me_! Enjoy! I hope I did your idea justice.

-HomeschoolGirl

**Disclaimer: **The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins!

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>Peeta knew she was growing up. It was bound to happen eventually. He tried to ignore the signs, tried to see past how she grew curves, and thick, shiny hair, and rosy cheeks and big doe eyes. He was blind to her beauty, a sort of self-protection.<p>

He didn't see it coming. He just didn't.

"A date?" He asked in disbelief, dropping his rolling pin. It, well, rolled-like it was supposed to-right off the counter, onto the floor. Little clouds of flour puffed up around him. He sneezed.

Ree, standing in the doorway to the bakery, lowered her eyes. "Yes."

"No."

She shoved off the wall. "I wasn't asking your permission." So much like Katniss. So headstrong. "I just thought I'd tell you. Now, can I please have some sugar? We're all out at the house."

They weren't _out_. They were never out of sugar. They just preferred to keep it away from Katniss, who was an expert at burning, overcooking, and generally misusing it. Or mistaking it for salt-an equally unforgivable mistake. Peeta shuddered at the memory of sweet squirrel stew. Ugh.

"Yeah, sure," he said in his easy way, going back to the bread. He watched Ree out of his peripheral vision as she went over to the cabinet and grabbed one of the many bags of sugar in her arms. "What's it for?"

"I have _no _idea!"

With that she marched out, sending the welcome bell jingling behind her.

Ugh.

* * *

><p>It turned out to be a pie, of all things. Katniss said it was to celebrate Ree's first official date. The crust was soggy, the filling too sweet, but they all loved it just the same. Abe ate two slices, for good measure.<p>

Ree scooted away from the table and stood. "I should, um, start getting dressed." She bent over to give each of her parents a kiss. "Thank you for dinner."

Peeta watched as she took the steps up to her room, two at a time. Katniss was watching, too. She leaned over to squeeze her husband's hand.

* * *

><p>"So, tell me, was the pie as awful as it tasted?"<p>

Peeta laughed, tugging Katniss down onto his lap. The dishes had been done, the kitchen cleaned, and Ree was _still_ upstairs. Abe had gone off to a friend's house, leaving them alone to talk.

"It wasn't bad at all. I just wondered why Ree didn't help." His daughter was somewhat of baking protégé, whereas Abe preferred the hunt. On more than one occasion, Ree had peppered them with delicious treats, and Abe supplied squirrels for dinner. So it didn't make sense that Katniss did the pie by herself.

She looked at him sheepishly. "I wouldn't let her help."

"You wouldn't?"

"No." She buried her face in his shirt. "I was trying to do it by myself."

Peeta laughed. "Katniss, you always go it alone. Don't you?"

"Yes," she whispered, letting a little laugh escape her pursed lips. "I hate asking people for help."

He rubbed her back soothingly. "I would have figured you'd be over that by now, sweetheart."

"I guess it's embedded in my brain, or something."

They were interrupted by the padding of feet on the stairs. They click-clicked down to the landing. Clicked?

He spun around and did a double take. Ree was wearing a halter-neck top, figure-hugging jeans, and raccoon-fur boots with heels. _Heels_.

Freaking heels.

"Is this all right?" Ree asked, looking worried. She spun around. The top was backless. Freaking backless.

Katniss recovered more quickly than her speechless husband, leaping up to embrace Ree. "Wow! You look beautiful."

"Really? You think so?"

"I know so. Definitely."

Peeta rose on shaky leg. Good gracious, this _could not be happening_. "Yes, you look very nice." He came to stand by Katniss, slipping an arm around her waist for support. "Very beautiful."

Ree smiled, pleased. "Thanks, Daddy."

They were interrupted by a quick knock on the door. Ree looked behind her with excitement. "Mom? Braid my hair real fast, please."

Katniss grabbed Ree's hand and dragged her upstairs, shooting Peeta a pleading look. "Answer the door. Be nice. Don't question him."

Peeta huffed as he hurried to do his wife's bidding. A tall, lanky boy with bright brown eyes and black hair was waiting for him. He saw Peeta and smiled, holding his hand out.

"Hey. I'm Peter."

"Peter."

They shook hands. Peter's quickly retreated into his pocket. He had an easy, dimpled smile and slightly pale skin. He obviously didn't talk much.

"So…" Peeta said after a minute. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Sure. Thank you sir."

They walked into the living room and sat awkwardly, both on edge. Peeta leaned forward, racking his brain for the right words.

"So…" He'd already said that before. "How do you know Ree?"

Peter shrugged. "From school."

"And what grade are you in?"

"Um…I'm a junior. Eleventh."

Peeta had to stop himself from jumping up and screaming. Ree was a freshman! A _freshman_! She was going on a date with a guy two years older than her, who, for all Peeta knew, might have been a serial rapist. Okay, probably not. But still!

"I've been held back twice," Peter said after a minute.

Oh, perfect! She was going on a date with a guy _FOUR YEARS OLDER THAN HER_ who was also a brainless idiot. Just lovely.

Ree appeared at that moment, her hair tamed back into a French braid-Katniss's signature style, back in the day. She smiled at Peeta and motioned to Peter.

"Let's go, Pete."

Katniss said goodbye and came to sit by Peeta. As soon as the door closed behind the odd couple, she burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Peeta asked, irritated.

"Peter…Peeta…Peter…Peeta!" She guffawed. "Do you not see the similarity?"

"Yes! I'm not stupid like _Peter_. Did you know he's nineteen? And he's been held back two times."

"I know. Ree told me." Katniss chuckled. "She's only going out on a date with this joker because he asked her and she didn't know how to say no." She dissolved into more giggles. "Oh, it's so funny."

"It's not that funny, Katniss."

"I think it's hilarious!"

Peeta sat by his wife, quaking with laughter, and was forced to finally join her. "I guess it is a _little_ funny."

"You know it." Katniss turned to him. "Now kiss me, you idiot. No wait…that's Peter who's stupid!" She started laughing again, so hard she snorted.

"Who says being held back makes you stupid?" Peeta teased, gathering her in his arms. He leaned down to brush his lips against hers.

Katniss giggled. "It doesn't. He just seems…" She twirled her finger around her head. "Ree said he's failing again. Doesn't do his homework."

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Figures. How hard is it to say no?"

"Well…" Katniss rubbed her husband's cheek. "I find it very hard to say no to you."

"So if I asked you to kiss me again, for real this time…"

"I guess I'd just have to say yes."

* * *

><p>Katniss and Abe retired to bed, but Peeta couldn't bring himself to. He had to know his daughter was home, safe, before he could sleep.<p>

The house was stifling hot, so he went outside. The night was black. And humid. He peeled off his shirt, knowing nobody could see him from the confines of the porch. Those were quickly followed by his pants. So there he sat, in his boxers, waiting up for his daughter to get home from her first date. Such a stereotype.

A foreign car pulled up a second later, right in front of the house. Peeta smiled. That quickly turned to a frown when Ree didn't emerge right away. He got up, reaching over to grab the gun he always kept handy. If this was a reporter from the Capitol that occasionally came to Twelve, he'd scare them off.

He walked down, closer to the car, yet there was nothing. He couldn't see in the windows. A little closer. Closer still. Finally, he was able to peek in the windows.

There sat Ree, locked in a heated kiss with a guy who definitely wasn't Peter. Peeta made a face and turned to go back on the porch, but his gun swung out and tapped the window. Ree looked up, caught sight of her father, and screamed. The guy with her started screaming when he saw the gun.

"Dad!" She exclaimed, worming her way out of the car. "What the hell? What are you doing?" The car's driver said a hurried goodbye to Ree and hit the gas, speeding down the street with the passenger door still open.

"I…I…" Peeta stuttered.

Ree folded her arms over her chest. "You're in your underwear. Holding a shotgun. IT'S MIDNIGHT!" She burst into tears and went running into the house. Peeta sighed. Katniss would be down any minute to chide him.

And that was even worse than Ree going on a date.


	29. Two: Bicker, Bicker, Brother, Sister

Title: **Bicker, Bicker, Brother, Sister**

Oneshot Number: **Two (2/10)**

Premise: **Abe and Ree are unique, but they still fight like all siblings do.**

Why I liked it: **Because, what sibling fights aren't fun to write?**

This oneshot is dedicated to **I-Live-Outside-The-Box**, who came up with this oneshot idea. Thanks for reading _You Love Me_. Enjoy! I hope you like it.

-Homey :)

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs, along with Peeta (:P) to Suzanne Collins. WHY CAN'T PEETA BE MIIIINE?

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p><strong>The PMS Fight<strong>

"I don't like your girlfriend."

The voice came from behind Abe. He slowly turned around to find Ree standing there, arms folded across her chest, chin raised in the air.

"And your point is?" He asked after a moment.

She marched forward. "I want you to break up with her."

He laughed. "No thanks. Just because you're a _college-girl_ now doesn't mean you get everything you want."

She glared. "I don't get everything I want. I'm failing one of my classes!"

"Boo-hoo. Now go, please. I'm trying to skin this stupid rabbit."

"I hate skinning stupid rabbits!"

"Well, I love skinning stupid rabbits. But I need to be able to concentrate."

Ree forced a laugh. "That's murderous! Are you going to be a murderer when you grow up?" Okay, that sounded lame-even to her.

Abe looked at her incredulously. "What?"

"N-nothing. But I don't like your girlfriend!"

"How?" He turned to his sister. "You haven't even met her yet!"

"Because I saw her picture and she looked mean!"

"What? She's the nicest person ever!"

"I WANT YOU TO BREAK UP WITH HER!"

Ree was being totally irrational now. She had tears in her eyes. Abe scoffed.

"What are you? On your period or something?"

She blinked. Her face fell. He gagged.

"Oh. Right."

"Humph." She turned on her heel and spun away.

Abe went back to skinning his stupid rabbit.

* * *

><p><strong>The Child's Fight <strong>

Ree loved her Sarah Sunshine doll. She was so pretty. Her plastic skin was blemish-free, her lips were perfectly curved, and her eyes were an endless blue. She had dozens of outfits and could talk and say "Momma!" Grandpa Haymitch had spoiled her with it on her last birthday.

So, as you can imagine, she was a little worried when Sarah Sunshine wasn't on her bed one morning like she usually was. Ree charged downstairs, hollering for Katniss, who appeared with a frying pan in her hand.

"Mommy! My Sarah Sunshine doll is _missing_."

"It's not missing," Katniss said, quick to dismiss. She waved the pan around in her hand. "I can't get this stupid thing-" Suddenly, the handle snapped in half-the cast _iron_ handle which was virtually unbreakable-and the pan thudded to the ground, right on top of Katniss's foot.

She cursed under her breath. "God, I think I just broke my foot!"

Ree burst into tears. "Sarah Sunshine is missing and nobody cares!" She turned on her heel and thudded up the stairs.

Peeta had to take Katniss to the district hospital, so Haymitch came over to watch after Ree and Abe. He found the little girl tearing through her room like a tornado.

She looked up at him as he entered, wiping snot off her face with the back of her hand. "Sarah Sunshine is gone. Gone! I've checked everywhere. Under my bed, in my closet, in daddy's and mommy's closet-" She stopped to hold up a box of what appeared to be pills. "I found this! Are they strawberry? I want one."

"Ree!" Haymitch exclaimed. "You didn't take one, did you?"

"No!" She studied the box. At seven, she was just beginning to read. "Buh-erth. Con-trooool. Puh-ills?" She looked back up at Haymitch. "What do these do?"

He made a face. "I'll tell you in six years, okay?"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She tossed the box aside. "Good. Now you can help me find Sarah Sunshine!" She leaped up happily and went to grab his hand. "You're good at that kind of thing."

He followed her around the house, searching every conceivable nook and cranny for that blasted doll, yet it eluded them. Finally, Haymitch called it quits, much to Ree's tearful disappointment.

"She's lost," she wailed as he carried her downstairs. "She's probably scared and hurt and-"

"She's a doll, Ree. She's fine."

She fixed him with a determined glare, looking so much like Katniss he had to pause for a minute. "She's more than just a _doll_ Haymitch! You, of all people, should know that." Well, he did know that Ree was Katniss reincarnated, even though she _was_ alive. Or maybe not. That hit to the foot looked pretty painful.

"Ree, sweetie," he said, sitting her down on the couch. "She'll turn up."

Well, she did. Forty-five minutes later, when Ree went to use the bathroom. She screamed for Haymitch and he came charging in, her own personal Superman.

"Look!" She wailed, pointing to the toilet. "Just look!"

Sarah Sunshine had been shoved in the bowl, along with most of her outfits. The toilet had obviously been flushed, as the only part of her that showed was her head. The rest was trying to travel down the pipes. A pair of designer, Sarah-Sunshine jeans floated around and around. Ree yanked them out before Haymitch could stop her. They were sopping wet with toilet water.

They went to work, retrieving piece after piece of clothing from the toilet, and finally Sarah Sunshine herself. They cleaned all the pieces, laid them outside to dry, and then waited. But, no matter how dry Sarah Sunshine got, she just wouldn't work. Her voice box was broken.

Suddenly, pressing the button repeatedly on her back, it dawned on Ree who was behind this…this massacre of a doll and her innocent clothes. Her own brother! Abe!

She turned and sprinted into the house, quickly locating her brother on the couch, watching some stupid educational TV show. She tackled him to the ground. Quickly, they became a tangle of fists and slaps and yells. Haymitch separated them as best he could, but it was difficult. Ree strained against him, toward a terrified Abe.

"You put Sarah Sunshine in the toilet!" She accused, face red with anger.

Abe looked a Haymitch. He nodded. Abe sighed. "Okay, I did."

"Why?" Now Ree just looked hurt.

Abe glared. "Because the _damn thing_ never shuts up!"

Mind you, he was five. Five. Haymitch knew whom he'd gotten _that_ little gem of a word from. Katniss.

"Both of you, to bed," Haymitch commanded after a moment. The two kids slunk off with slightly injured sniffs. But they listened. Thank goodness.

Katniss returned that night, declared her foot broken, and plopped down onto the couch.

"So…" She said, turning to Haymitch. "How did it go?"

He forced a smile. "Just wonderful, Katniss. Just wonderful."

* * *

><p><strong>Jealous Fight <strong>

Abe got a fish one day, for no apparent reason other than he wanted a fish. Katniss caught it outside for him and bought it home. Thus, Ree decided she had to have one, too.

"You hate fish," Katniss reminded her when she asked.

"No I don't! I love fish!"

"You told me just last week, 'Oh my god, I don't know how Abe can want a fish. I hate them!' So yes, you hate them."

"That was before-"

"He got them?" Katniss finished.

Ree glared.

She turned to her daughter. "Let Abe have this to himself. You're thirteen, plenty old enough to…act your age."

Okay, so both of them sucked when it came to words.

"But. I. Want. One."

"Then go catch one yourself, Ree!"

She stomped off, a dramatic mess of tears.

Katniss sighed.

Over the next few days, tension built, until finally came the long-dreaded fight.

"YOU GET EVERYTHING YOU WANT!"

Katniss was woken from her nap (she took one every day) by Ree's screeching. She quickly got to her feet and hurried up the stairs.

"No, I don't," Abe answered quietly, the rational one.

"Yes you do! Always! Always always always!" Ree stomped her foot. "And I'm tired of it, Abe!"

"Well, then go get a fish. What do I care?" He turned back to feeding said animal.

"No! I don't want one!"

He turned back to her. "Then what're we fighting about?"

"I DON'T KNOW BUT I'M MAD SO I WANT TO FIGHT!" Ree's eyes lit up as she looked at her fists. "I know! Let's fight!"

Abe wrinkled his nose. "No thanks."

But it was too late. Ree was already charging toward him. She let out a war cry. Katniss watched with slightly bemused eyes.

Ree pinned Abe against the wall, laughing hysterically. "I win!"

Abe shrugged her off. "Not yet." With that said, he bent over, wrapped his arms around his sister's legs, and quickly tugged her down. She hit the floor with a painful thud. He moved to pin her down.

She wriggled under him. "Oh my god! Since when are _you_ strong?"

Abe laughed. "I'm dad's son, you dummy."

"Yeah, but I'm _mom's_ daughter!"

She sat up and caught Abe around the neck, using her weight to push him down. He rolled and pinned her under him again.

She shook her head in disbelief. "Dude. You're like, strong."

Abe stood up, holding his hand out to her. "Let's not fight anymore, okay?"

"Okay." Ree stood up and dusted her hands off happily. "Hey, can I feed your fish?"

Abe handed the container over. Together, the two siblings watched as the fish gobbled up his flakes.

Katniss smiled. She knew she'd probably always remember this fight. For the first time in the history of her children's relationship, it had ended on a happy note.

She turned around and headed back downstairs, unnoticed by her kids who were getting a long as brother and sister should.


	30. Three: Promise Me, Peeta

Title: Promise Me, Peeta

Oneshot Number: Two and a half (2.5/10)

Premise: **Prim has something to say to Peeta.  
><strong>

Why I liked it: **I liked Prim. I was surprised when she died. Here's another way she said goodbye.  
><strong>

This oneshot is dedicated to **seventeen4ever**, who PM'd me two oneshot ideas I loved. Since this one is short, I went ahead and did both. I hope you enjoy! Thanks a ton for reading _You Love Me_.

-Homey :)

**Disclaimer: **The Hunger Games doesn't belong to me. (Darn it!)

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>He rarely got time away from them. He was always watched. But when Prim requested to speak to him-alone, at that-they let him go. That's when he first knew she was a piece in Coin's own twisted games. If something happened to her, for any reason, they'd always have someone else to place the blame on. So he couldn't let himself loose control. He'd have to see Prim for who she was: a little girl, wanting a goodbye. Not some murderous villain like Snow had made her out to be. Or hadn't he? Peeta wasn't sure.<p>

"I'm glad you could come," Prim said as he walked into her room. She was sitting on her cot. She patted the place beside her. "Come sit."

He stood. "I can't."

Her little shoulders hunched over in defeat. "They really did get to you, didn't they, Peeta? Do you remember how you used to be?"

He shook his head.

She laughed. "You must, because you were always honest. And you were just honest with me there, weren't you? And I guess you were good with words: I'd heard you convince people to do things myself. You were kind, too. Kinder than anyone."

"Why are you telling me this?" He demanded at last in choked whisper.

"Please-" Prim's eyes got huge and pleading. "They're going to take you with them, and you cannot hurt her. You can't."

Peeta closed his eyes. "You don't understand. I can't stop myself."

She stood and treaded over to stand in front of him. "You can, Peeta. You absolutely can. You're still in here-" She touched a finger to his chest. "Katniss just doesn't know it. For me, please-" She cleared her throat, looked at the ground. "For years she's been protecting me. I'm thirteen now, and I don't need to be protected anymore."

"Everyone needs to be protected," Peeta reminded her. "Even adults. Even teenagers who think they're adults."

Prim smiled. "But what if I'm ready to do this alone?"

"What if you get hurt doing it?"

She smiled. "Silly, Peeta. I know I might. But I'm willing-if I were to die heroically, now, that wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

Peeta blinked back tears. This wasn't fair. No thirteen-year-old should ever have to say this. She should look forward, into the future. Her biggest care should be whether or not a boy liked her. She shouldn't think about dying.

"Peeta-" Prim stepped forward, buried her face in his stomach, wrapped her arms around him. "Peeta, Katniss loves you. She _loves_ you." She looked up at him. "Please, for my sake. Love. Her. Back."

"I can't love her if-"

"Of course you can! Peeta, you have _always loved her_. It's there. It's inside you. Just-" She narrowed her eyes, furrowed her eyebrows. "Find it! Find it, please!"

"Prim, I-"

But the guards returned, held their hands out to Peeta, faces stoic. "It's time, Mellark," one of them barked. "Gale's requested you. Let's go."

Prim smiled at him and waved. "Keep her safe, okay?"

Peeta nodded. That much, he could promise. Maybe.

"Goodbye, Peeta."

As the guards tugged him away, all he could think about was how final those words were. And he knew: Prim didn't intend to see him again. He just didn't know if it were him or her that would be going.

If he had known, he would have tried to save her. But he didn't.

* * *

><p>Title: <strong>Green with Envy-and Delly.<br>**

Oneshot Number: **Three (3/10)**

Premise: **Katniss has been jealous before-but she's never had it quite this bad!  
><strong>

Why I liked it: **I love Peeta and Katniss. Like, a lot. THEY'RE SO FUN TO WRITE!  
><strong>

This oneshot is dedicated to **seventeen4ever**, who PM'd me two oneshot ideas I loved. Since they're both short, I went ahead and did both. I hope you enjoy! Thanks a ton for reading _You Love Me_.

-Homey :D _  
><em>

**Disclaimer: **The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>They were at the store-together, a couple, unmarried and slowly working through the bumps in their relationships. Twelve was being rebuilt, slowly but surely, and everything seemed to be coming together: even them.<p>

This was, of course, until they ran into Delly Cartwright.

The blonde beauty shrieked when she saw them, waving enthusiastically. Katniss tried not to roll her eyes. Peeta smiled back.

"Hi, you two!" She cried, running right into Peeta's arms. She hugged him firmly, still jumping up and down. Katniss felt a twinge of…_something_…inside her, though she wasn't sure what.

"It's so good to see you," he said, holding her away from him. Katniss hoped it was because he was repulsed by Delly's very presence, but she knew better.

"Oh, you two look _so _good!" She enthused, moving to embrace Katniss. "You're absolutely stunning, sweetie."

"So are you," Peeta added, friendly as ever.

It was true. Delly had slimmed out. Her blonde hair was wavy and voluptuous. Her dress was tailored to her every curve. Katniss loathed her, even though she felt guilty for it. But she was beautiful. Katniss…was not.

"Yes," Katniss said at last, gritting her teeth. "You're gorgeous."

Delly waved her off. "Come now, Katniss. Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not," she said quietly.

Delly kissed her cheek. "You are a _dear_. Peeta, we really do need to keep up. How are things? I'm thrilled to see you two together. Like, that's fantastic!"

Peeta put a secure arm around Katniss. "Me, too. You were right, Delly-about everything. Thank you for helping me out way back when."

Delly smiled. "I'd do it all over again, Peeta. I truly would."

They finally managed to break away from Delly, who was beginning to have the characteristics of a parasite, and went home. Katniss sat on the couch, sulking.

"Is something wrong?" Peeta asked, sitting beside her.

She glared at him. "Oh nothing! I had a lovely afternoon. Delly had her pristine little paws all over you, and you loved it! It was fantastic!"

He laughed, leaning his face close to hers. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy? Hm?"

Katniss shook her head. "Absolutely not. I'm just mad that you…that you didn't care. You said she was stunning."

Peeta looked surprised. "No I didn't."

"Yes you did!" Katniss wiped a tear from her eye. "She said I was stunning and you said, 'So are you'."

"Katniss. That is not the same thing."

"Last time I checked it was."

He leaned closer, forcing her onto her back. "Katniss Everdeen. _You_ are stunning."

She sniffed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Peeta, stop. I'm not. My hair is horrible and I have these terrible scars."

"Why do you always say that? Why don't you _see_?"

She shook her head. "I'm the only one who does see! Delly is beautiful, and I'm not, and yes I WAS JEALOUS!"

Peeta blinked, surprised. Katniss turned her head away.

"Katniss. _Katniss_." He guided her chin to face him. "Please. I love you. I think you're beautiful, not Delly."

"Really? Is that so? Would you mind explaining beca-"

He interrupted her with a kiss. They're lips crushed together with newfound ferocity. His arms wound around her waist, tugging her close. He rolled over, trying not to crush her, but instead went right off the side of the couch.

Katniss giggled as he thudded to the floor. She peered over the side.

"Um…" Peeta said, breathless. "Did…did that show you?"

She smiled. "Not quite. Why don't you come make your point again?"

He sat up, grinning. "I think I should."


	31. Please Read: Part Two

SO...I hope you all are enjoying the oneshots! Thank you so much! Keep sending your ideas in. I think I've picked about...seven? As of now that I want to do! Either review your oneshot idea or PM it to me!

Okay, thank you to whoever pointed this out (it was a guest review) because I um, *cough*, forgot. So, in the epilogue of You Love Me, Katniss was supposed to be having another baby. (-_-) Guess who completely forgot? *pauses, waits for someone to raise hand* Who forgot? Hello? Answer, please! *silence* OH! It was me! :P

So I'll probably edit the baby out of the epilogue since I've already written all these oneshots. Or maybe I'll just leave it and let the oneshots be without the baby! LOL! But anyways, in case any of you were wondering about that, I forgot! LOL!

Thanks so much!

-Homey :D


	32. Four: Diaper Duty

Title: **Diaper Duty**

Oneshot Number: **Four (4/10)**

Premise: **When new parents Peeta and Katniss change their first diaper, it doesn't go as planned.  
><strong>

Why I liked it: **It's a cute idea! **

This oneshot is dedicated to PersonPerson, who suggested it in the comments. I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much for reading _You Love Me_!

-Homey :D

**Disclaimer: **The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. Sadly.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>For the first hour, it was all happiness and complete serenity. Peeta sat next to Katniss on the bed, forehead-to-forehead, as they watched their newborn daughter sleep.<p>

"She's so beautiful," he whispered after a long moment.

Katniss nodded her agreement. "So beautiful."

"Just think….in fifteen to sixteen years we'll be dealing with boys!" Peeta made a face. "I'm not ready for that, yet."

Katniss shook with silent laughter. "Peeta, I like we have a more immediate problem than boys."

"What's that?"

Katniss wrinkled her nose. "Do you…do you _smell_ that?"

Peter sniffed. "Ugh! What the heck-"

Katniss peered down at her sleeping daughter, the picture of innocence-even though a not-so-innocent smell was currently coming from her diaper.

"We have to change her," Katniss said at last, with misplaced urgency.

"Change…" Peeta's eyes got big. "How do you do that?"

"How am I supposed to know, Peeta?" She snapped. "I've had her for an hour and I've just been through labor! I'm woozy. Here." She gently placed the baby into his arms. "_You_ take care of her, and I'll watch."

Peeta shot his wife an anxious look as he stood, cradling Ree to his chest, and gently made his way down the hall to her nursery. He laid her on the changing table.

"Okay," he said, exhaling for a long while. "Okay, I can do this. I will do this."

Ree opened her little eyes and blinked at him.

"Hi," he crooned, kissing her forehead. "Hi, Ree-"

Her whole body tensed up under him and she let out a yell that rattled Peeta's ears. He jumped back, surprised.

Katniss came charging into the room, throwing Peeta an annoyed look as she gathered her hollering baby in her arms. "It's okay, sweetie. I know daddy can be scary."

Peeta rolled his eyes.

She set Ree down and placed her hands on her hips. "Okay. Peeta. Change her."

"I don't know how," He admitted at last.

"It's not that hard!" Katniss turned to him with exasperation, then back to her daughter, looking a bit more skeptical than before. "Is it?"

Peeta shrugged.

"You aren't any help! All I want to do is sleep and…and…" Katniss sniffed, wiping at a tear. Oh dear.

"Katniss, Katniss, I'm sorry-" Peeta stepped forward, but she waved him off.

"I'm fine! Dr. Aurelius told me my emotions would be all over the place." She coughed. "I'm fine."

He stepped up beside her, taking her hand. "This is it, Katniss. We got what we both wanted more than anything. Let's just…let's do this together. Okay?"

She nodded. "I love you."

To some, it might have sounded like they were going into another Hunger Games, a ferocious battle fraught with goodbyes. But no, they were just changing a diaper.

Peeta gingerly pulled the Velcro tabs away from the cloth diaper. It fell open, and the horrible smell worsened. Peeta covered his nose. Katniss gagged.

The diaper was completely soiled.

"How are we supposed to hand wash this?" Katniss demanded. She rolled the diaper up and shook it. "How? I'm throwing it away."

She did just that, much to Peeta's relief. He didn't doubt who'd have been put on diaper cleaning duty if she hadn't.

"Okay," Katniss said again, mostly to herself. She went across the hall, into the bathroom, and returned with a few wet cloths. "We will have to wash these, though," she said remorsefully.

Peeta's stomach churned.

"So…" She stepped up to Ree, who was beginning to look mystified. "Do I wipe back-to-front or front-to-back?"

"Front to back."

"But what if it's different on babies?" She mussed. "I don't want to hurt her."

"You won't Katniss. It's fine. She's not as delicate as you think." Peeta gritted his teeth and took the wipes from his wife. "I'll do it, okay?"

Katniss nodded, pleased. "Okay. Thanks!"

He cleaned Ree up, holding his breath the whole time, and handed the wipes to his wife. She ended up throwing them away, too. Then they both took turns washing their hands furiously, while the other watched Ree.

Katniss grabbed another cloth diaper from the cabinet in Ree's room and studied it. "Do you remember how the first one went on?"

Peeta shook his head. "No. Do you?"

"If I had, would I be asking you if you did?"

"That didn't make any sense."

Katniss glared. "Let's just change this stupid diaper."

It took a lot of elbowing, and patience, but finally the task was completed. Katniss stepped back to survey her handiwork. Her jaw dropped.

"What?" Peeta asked. "It looks great!"

"I put it on _backwards_!" She wailed.

"Oh." Peeta's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Well, we'll just do it again."

They took the diaper off, and after another laborious attempt, finally managed to get it on correctly. They both cheered.

"See?" Katniss asked. "We _can_ do this. We can."

"I know." Peeta bent his head to hers. "We'll do this. We'll be great."

Katniss wrapped her arms around him. "I love you."

"And I love-"

Ree started to wail again. Katniss laughed and turned to comfort her but a sight made her stop cold.

"Peeta?" She asked in a high-pitched voice.

"Yeah?"

"Look-" She pointed to the diaper, which was slightly bigger than when they had put it on, only a moment ago. "She…"

"Peed her diaper."

Katniss looked horrified. "We have to do that again? I don't even remember how!"

"Me either," Peeta was quick to agree. "Rock, paper, scissors?"

But they did it many times over the years. They learned.


	33. Five: If I Were Alive

Title: **If I Were Alive...  
><strong>

Oneshot Number: **Five (5/10)**

Premise: **Finnick has a few things he has to say to Annie. ****  
><strong>

Why I liked it: **Finnick's death was so quick-we never really got to "mourn" him. This is my way of hopefully giving him one last goodbye.  
><strong>

This oneshot is dedicated to Jaydene, who suggested this idea. It may not have been in the format she wanted it to be, but I hope she still likes it!

-Homey :D

P.S. Okay! I've officially chosen my oneshots. And it's looking like there's gonna be thirteen instead of ten. (I just couldn't say no!)

**Disclaimer: **The Hunger Games does not, in any way, belong to me.

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>If I Were Alive…<p>

I'd tell you to breathe.

And remember to take your medicine.

And that our son is beautiful.

* * *

><p>If I Were Alive…<p>

I'd hold you in my arms.

And kiss your hair.

And remind you that you're the only one I've ever loved.

* * *

><p>If I Were Alive…<p>

I'd be crazy with you.

And brave, like you told me to be.

And kiss those lips of yours again and again.

* * *

><p>If I Were Alive…<p>

I'd make sure you knew to move on.

And that if you were dead I would.

And though that would be lying, I'd lie to keep you happy.

* * *

><p>If I Were Alive…<p>

I'd shake hands with your new husband.

And threaten his death if he ever makes you cry.

And hold your hand, even if he didn't like it.

* * *

><p>If I Were Alive…<p>

I'd dance with you all night.

And we'd sway ever so softly to the music.

And you'd tilt your head back in that cute way of yours and laugh.

* * *

><p>If I Were Alive…<p>

I'd say my death was worth it.

That I loved the girl on fire.

But never like I loved you.

* * *

><p>Ahem. Excuse me. <em>Love<em> you.


	34. Six: Present, Part One

Title: **Present** (Part One)**  
><strong>

Oneshot Number: **Six (6/10)**

Premise: **Katniss and Peeta fell in love in the future. How about in modern times?  
><strong>

Why I liked it: **C'mon! Present Katniss and Peeta are fun to write! What's _not_ to like? :)**

This oneshot is dedicated to ily26. Thanks for this awesome idea, and thanks for reading _You Love Me_. I appreciate your support!

-Homey

P.S. A part two will follow. Eventually.

**Disclaimer: ** The Hunger Games does not belong to me. Which I am very sad about. (as you can imagine...)

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>My heart stopped. My breath ceased. I stood at the foot of my greatest obstacle, knowing that I was going to die. There was no going back. So I squared my shoulders, stepped forward, and went to meet my greatest monster ever.<p>

College.

The building was hardly Ivy League—just a simple community college—but daunting nonetheless. This could crush me. I could fail all my classes and finally meet a scholarly demise. School sucked.

My first class, American Literature, was in a nondescript, windowless room with a bunch of desks shoved together and a teacher who looked like he could die at any time. I made a note to put that in a poem.

I slid in next to a brown-haired girl with a pretty face. She leaned over to whisper in my ear, "Hi, I'm Madge."

"Katniss," I replied, chewing on my fingernails nervously. It was a disgusting habit I had, one I couldn't seem to break.

"Katniss," Madge said, brown eyes widening. It figured. I always got a reaction to my weird name, once that I had contemplated changing a thousand times. Why couldn't I have been a Sarah, or a Debby, or even a Michaela? Those never got second glances.

"Everdeen," I tacked on lamely.

She nodded and turned back to her book. She was reading one of the Austen novels. I hated classics with a passion. Why had I signed up for this class, again? Oh yeah, so I could get enough credits to graduate.

Two blondes walked in. I looked up, studying them. The girl hovered close to the boy, her straight yellow hair cascading halfway down her back. She was pretty, with big eyes and a womanly figure. I was more trim—I always had been—and I had come to envy girls built like, well, girls.

The boy was broad shouldered, with the most amazing blue eyes that popped out at me even from three yards away. He was lean, and tall. He had a bit of stubble coating his chin; just enough to reveal that he could indeed grow a beard but chose not too. I gaped, slightly mesmerized.

Madge pinched my arm. Ouch.

"You're staring," she hissed in my ear.

I glared at her. "Thanks."

The boy sat down right across from me, followed by the girl. She smiled at him fondly. It was obvious they were a couple.

I looked down at my new, blank notebook, trying to look occupied. Occasionally I stole glances at him. His fingertips were stained with color—either he was a painter or a tattoo artist. Since he didn't seem to have any of those (at least none that were immediately visible), I went with the first.

A peek under the table, due to an "accidentally" dropped pencil, revealed he wore ratty jeans, with a rip in the knee. That _knee_. My stomach flipped. I sat back up so quickly I banged my head on the edge of my desk.

Everyone looked of course, him included. He raised his eyes briefly but kept his head down, focused on a carving in his desk.

"Are you okay?" The blonde next to him asked, looking concerned.

I nodded and forced a smile. "I'm excellent. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong." She leaned across the small space between the circle of desks, and patted my arm. "I'm Delly."

"Delly," I said, with a smile. "Katniss."

The boy looked up a bit more, now mildly interested. "Katniss?"

My insides melted. His voice was like the sweetest honey.

"Katniss," I confirmed, a little too late.

He looked back down.

I played with my pencil. "What's your name?"

He looked up. He smiled.

"Peeta."

And that's when I fell in love.

* * *

><p>My sister, Prim—also weirdly named, thanks a lot mom—called me the second I walked in my apartment. I picked up the phone on the ninth ring.<p>

"You really need a voicemail," she complained.

I sighed. "I'm great, thanks for asking. How about you?"

"I'm sitting here eating high-calorie German chocolate cake, and not regretting a single bite. It's like heaven."

"You shouldn't. You're fifteen. No regrets."

"You are correct, dear sister."

I sank down into my couch cushions, kicking off my shoes. "So."

"So. How was school?'

"I lived."

She laughed at my flat monotone. "You sound thrilled!"

"Just you wait until you're gone," I threatened. "You'll miss everything."

"I don't think that's going to happen."

"What?"

"Me missing everything. I'm going to be so ready to escape this town."

We lived in the Kentucky countryside, in a little house just off the main road into what some might consider more of a village than anything. It was filled with old religious people. Not that I minded. It was better than New York or Brooklyn.

"It's just…too…"

"Much of everything?"

"Right."

Prim giggled. "You'll be fine, Katniss. Just find something to latch on to. I'm sure there's someone there that can keep you sane."

"I'll try."

"Love you. I've got to go."

"What're you doing?"

"Finishing the chocolate cake and then I'm going to go get pie."

I laughed. "Why?"

"Because I can and I'm hungry and I want something sweet!"

"Please send me some virtual pie."

"Will do."

We said our goodbyes and hung up. I stared at the phone for a long time afterward, missing Prim more than ever. I loved my crazy, sweet, shy sister with a passion. I hoped I'd get to see her soon.

I sat on the couch for awhile afterward, finally convincing myself I needed some exercise. It would be so easy to hole up in here and never see the sun again. I forced myself up, back into my bedroom, and changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top.

I stepped outside, shoving my iPod earbuds in. The voice of John Mayer filled my head, and I began jogging. _And I keep waiting, waiting, waiting on the world to change. _

I was waiting on my attitude to change. Preferably soon.

I saw Delly before she saw me. The blonde was jogging towards me, head down, intent on her course. Her converse slapped against the pavement. Her hair was swept back into a halfhearted ponytail, and her neck was red and slick with sweat. She wore an outfit similar to mine, only the shorts were longer and the shirt was looser.

"Hey, Katniss!" She chirped, finally noticing me.

I waved, surprised she remembered my name. Then again, it might have been kind of hard to forget.

I was ready to pass right by her, but she slowed and placed her hand on my arm. "Hey. I'm having a party on Saturday, to celebrate everyone's first week of college."

"If we're still alive by then," I quipped.

She laughed. "You're too funny. Yes, if we survive." She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I'd love for you to come."

"Is Pete…Madge, going to be there?" I stuttered.

She nodded. "Yeah. We're good friends."

"And your boyfriend?"

"Huh?" She tilted her head, wrinkling her nose cutely. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Yeah you do. Peeta."

"Oh!" She laughed. "He's a friend, Katniss. A childhood friend. More like a brother than anything else…" She shook her head. "It would be too weird, you know?"

"You look cute together, though," I said weakly.

She beamed. "Thanks. But blondes don't really go with blondes, you know? I like contrast!" She reached out to tug on my braid. "Now, you two would be stunning as a couple. You're total opposites."

I wanted to choke. Badly. "Huh? No."

"Do you already have a boyfriend, then?"

"Um…no."

"Then why not? Why not go with him?"

"Because…" I started to walk again, and Delly turned around, hurrying to keep up with me. I fumbled for an answer. "We…I don't know him."

"It's not a _date_, Katniss. Just two friends going to a party."

"We're not friends," I protested.

"Ah, but you could be!" She smiled, earnest. "Get to know him this week. You'll love him. He's so special."

"No thanks. I think I'll pass."

"Katniss!" She chortled. "You're so stubborn."

"I can't go with him."

"Why?"

"Because I have a boyfriend."

She narrowed her eyes. "You already said you didn't."

"I changed my mind. He's imaginary, and I'm madly in love." I slung my arm around an invisible figure. "See?"

"Very cute." Delly was laughing so hard she snorted. "You're a riot, Katniss. A _riot_. Oh, well. I better get going."

"Where do you live?"

"At the apartments a mile or so from here."

I'd seen them on my way into the city, earlier this week. "Oh. Okay."

"Number two-fifteen." She patted my arm absently. "I'll see you there."

Had I said I was coming? I didn't think so.

"I'll be there," I found myself saying, despite my inner monologue. Stupid, stupid me.

"Awesome!" She jogged off again, the opposite direction I was going. Thank goodness for that. "I'll see you at school tomorrow! Have a lovely evening!"

"You too!" I called. But she was already gone.

* * *

><p>The week passed uneventfully. Every day I watched Peeta. I learned new things about him. Like, in addition to painting, he liked to bake. He let that slip one day, during lunch, when Delly made him bring me a cookie from the tin he had bought to school.<p>

"Thanks," I said, taking a bite. "Goodness, this is heavenly."

He smiled, faintly. "Thanks."

"Where do you get these?"

"Huh?"

"Where do you get these?"

"I don't. I bake them."

I grinned. "You like baking?"

"Yeah. A lot." Then he flushed red and turned around, striding back toward his table without another word. I watched after him, while my heart hammered in my chest.

He also had anxiety. Lots of it. Madge told me it was because of his childhood; he'd had an abusive mother, a passive, facile father, and two overbearing brothers. His leg was always bouncing nervously—his eyes never lingered on anything for too long—and once I heard him yelling at Delly, his voice distorted with worry and emotion.

"Peeta," she'd said, in her most soothing voice. "I'm here, Peeta. I'm here."

Friday rolled around, the day of the party, and I found myself unsure as to whether I really wanted to go. I called my friend from home, Greta, who encouraged me to go.

"Katniss, what you really need is to be carefree for a single night. Drink some beer, talk to a few guys, and have_ fun_. You haven't had fun since your dad died."

"I couldn't, Greta. I was taking care of Prim."

"And now you don't have to anymore. Your mom is better, and your sister is old enough to take care of herself."

With black hair and gorgeous brown eyes, Greta was the beauty of our little town, and everyone loved her. I was lucky to have her as a friend.

"Okay. Take care of her, okay?"

"Okay. And don't forget: Dress to impress!"

I laughed and hung up.

I did end up dressing to impress, or at least I hoped I did. I pulled on a pair of white shorts that barely passed as such. They were more underwear than anything, but they made my legs look tan and long, and so I wore them. I paired that with a casual t-shirt that, in most cases, I wouldn't have even worn to bed. It was indecent. It was tight, and revealed a small strip of stomach at the bottom. But this was a college party.

So I dressed to impress.

* * *

><p>"Katniss!" Delly's eyes popped when she opened the door to her apartment, only a few moments later. "You look…"<p>

"Trashy? I can change." I chewed my lip nervously.

"Hot!" Some guy chimed in behind her. He kept walking, though, not sparing me more than an appreciative full-body glance.

She smiled sheepishly. "That's Charles. He's…"

"Wasted!" Another voice said. A girl with a severe face and long, black hair peeked out from behind Delly. "Hey. I'm Clay, Charles's girlfriend."

"Katniss," I said, sticking my hand out.

She smirked. "Don't try to steal him."

I retreated my hand.

She walked away, hips swinging, leaving me to wallow in my stupidity.

Delly glared at Clay's back. "That girl is trouble. I'd like to know who invited her, exactly. Well, there's nothing we can do now." She stepped to the side. "Come in."

I did. Inside the apartment, it was a few degrees warmer. People danced to upbeat pop music, a little too young for the crowd, but it didn't matter. I instantly helped myself to a soda, opting out of the alcohol. What Greta didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Madge spotted me and came surging forward. "Katniss! You look awesome."

"Thanks," I said, over the loud pounding of the bass. "So do you."

She laughed. "Ha. Thanks. I'm…" She tugged at the bottom of her little leather dress. "I'm trying."

"You're succeeding."

"So, Delly." Madge turned to the blonde, who was sipping slowly from a red cup. "Care to show me where your prince charming is?"

Delly giggled. "Madge. Please. He's not here yet."

"I want to see him."

"He's not here."

"But I want to see him when he _is_ here."

"Okay. I promise I'll show you him."

I wandered off, leaving the two friends to chat. I went over to the snack table and snagged a cracker. My eyes searched the room. Where was the blonde head? The broad shoulders? Obviously, not here.

"Hey. Do you wanna dance?"

I turned to a plain-faced, curly-headed boy with earnest eyes. He was cute, in an offhand way. But not my way.

"Um…not right now."

He nodded, unfazed. "The name's Marvel."

I grinned. "Like the comic?

"Like the comic."

"Awesome."

"I know."

"I'm Katniss."

"Katniss." His eyebrows shot up. "I like. I like."

I laughed. "It's weird."

"Naw. It's cute."

I turned back to face the party, craning my neck to see past a bunch of jocks gathered in the corner.

"Looking for someone?"

Marvel's voice was right in my ear. I jumped. He'd stepped closer.

"Um. Not really." I set down my now-empty soda can. "Bye."

"Bye." He watched with remorse as I hurried off.

I had to find Peeta.


	35. Sheath: Bonus

First of all, I'm really sorry for not updating. I can't believe it's been almost TWO months! That's insane. Well, summer is over, and I'm looking forward to fall. I've been working on an original story, so that's why I haven't been updating. :) But I'm making good progress on the original one, and I hope to finish it within the next couple of months AND edit it! If and when I do, I'll tell you guys about it.

Okay, so this isn't Present Part Two. I got about two and a half pages into that and want it to be six. So I'm not going to post it until it's completely ready for you guys. This is titled, "Sheath" (like sheath of arrows, ha-ha), and I wrote it after finishing Mockingjay-'cause I just re-read the series. :D

So, it's sort of an alternate beginning to You Love Me. One that focuses less on Peeta and more on Katniss. Thoughts are appreciated! Thank you for being awesome. :)

-Homey :D

P.S. I promise to get all the oneshots up eventually!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Hunger Games. (Or Peeta...:P)

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>The dog is on the prowl. I can tell, by the terseness of his muscles, the way his shoulders roll as he shuffles forward, low to the ground. Little does he know that the hunter is actually the prey.<p>

The arrow flies from my bow with precision, a clean shot to the eye. All the air gushes at him in one continuous whoosh. As I walk forward he stumbles, falls, fails to draw another breath. He felt no pain, not today.

It is easy to tell by the missing tufts of fur and the wound on his leg that he has seen some hurt before. A battle with another dog over a small, weak rodent may have led to this. A scuffle with a larger, stronger animal.

I examine the cut for infection, knowing if I find one we won't be able to eat him, but at least I'll have put the poor animal out of his misery. But luck is on my side, this cool fall morning, and the wound is clean. Sae will be pleased.

Indeed she is. As I deposit the animal on her front stoop, a little over an hour later, her weathered face breaks into a warm smile. The head of her granddaughter, a chubby little girl who's not quite right, peers out from behind Sae's ample frame. She studies my kill.

"Hi, Stella," I say because, after years of never knowing her name, I finally took a moment to learn it a few months back. Her eyes, a cold brown, flit up to meet mine briefly in recognition. That's progress, for her. She stares a bit longer at the wild dog and then disappears just as silently as she came.

"I'll bring a bowl to you tonight," Greasy Sae promises as I help her carry the dog inside. She has managed to secure one of the victor homes for her own, a nice one with clean carpet and pristine walls. We skin the dog in her kitchen and I help her butcher the meat, although there's a new man in 12, Harris, who would probably do it for free.

The work is slow, because though this dog was small in size, he packed quite a bit of meat on his bones. A child probably tried to make him their pet, fed him scraps from their suppers. But I played that game when I was young, and it never worked.

When something gets too wild, it can never be tamed.

I walk back to my house slowly, savoring the crisp air. This sort of weather always brings a small smile to my face. It's pleasant; not quite as nice as spring, but close. The dead leaves make hunting harder and the bare branches provide minimal cover—still, I relish it.

Another smell greets me as I step through my front door. Peeta has made cheese buns and delivered them to me again. I hurry to my kitchen, where I know they'll be, and eagerly split one roll open. I bury my nose in its sweet flesh and inhale deeply.

At last I'm forced to eat the treat, before it gets cold. The rest I wrap in soft cloths and store in my cupboard. I'll have them with Greasy Sae's stew tonight.

I don't have much to do so I take a warm shower, dress in soft flannel pajamas, and pull on my father's hunting jacket. He is a small comfort to me as I tread back down the stairs, pull out two pieces of paper, and begin to write.

I'm working on the memory book, a project that has been built gradually over the past few months. The quiet hours of meditation in the woods have brought back melodies, old songs my father used to sing to me. I try to record them while they are fresh. I've already penciled a few in, but a special one came back to me earlier today.

The Mockingjays were silent when I opened my mouth and tested out the tune. As the songs came to an end, that last note vibrated in the air, they ever so slowly began to sing back to me. Now I sing it again, as my hand flies across the paper, knowing they will not be here to echo the sound, but I like hearing it all the same.

_A flash of hair between the trees _

_ A small sure-footed step _

_ This meadow it is dark and deep _

_ I do not know if it will keep _

_ It's fast to feel but slow to see _

_ It might just swallow you and me _

_A flash of eyes between the trees _

_ The warmest to have ever blinked_

_ This meadow it is dark and deep_

_ I do not know if it will keep _

_ It's fast to feel but slow to see _

_ It might just swallow you and me _

_ A flash of hands between the trees _

_ Clasped together so tightly _

_ This meadow it is dark and deep _

_ I do not know if it will keep _

_ It's fast to feel but slow to see _

_ It might just swallow you and me _

My hand is aching by the time I'm done, sore from the effort. I flex my fingers. It's funny that, after enduring bullets and gashes and fire, this little bit of pain would bother me. But it does. Even the slightest stabs across my knuckles send me back to evil places that are impossible to escape.

I bury my face in my arms, overcome with grief. Madge. Cinna. Finnick. Darius. Boggs. Prim. It's too much, too quickly, for me to process. I have caused these deaths.

Sleep overcomes me, but it's anything but peaceful. I'm relieved when Haymitch shakes me awake. He doesn't look well. There are deep, purple bags under his eyes. His breath reeks of liquor, and his clothes are mussed.

"Hi," I say quietly.

"Hi there, sweetheart," he says, voice thick with sarcasm. "Sleep well?"

"Hardly," I mumble.

"Stew's in the kitchen."

I rise and yawn, following after Haymitch. He's not the only one who's come to eat with us tonight. There's Peeta, already sitting in a chair, looking horribly out of place.

Since our return to District 12, we've kept our distance. He still shows he cares. Be it the bread or a painting dropped on my doorstep, I know he thinks of me. I'm less eager to return those feelings. I can never love again. Not after all that's happened.

"Did you catch this?" He asks as we take our seats.

I spoon some of the stew into my mouth. The wild dog is a bit tough, but good. A vast variety of seasoning peppers the dish.

"Yeah," I answer after a moment. "This morning."

"Oh," he says because, really, what else is there to say?

Haymitch gulps the rest of his food down and then burps. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight to the both of you. Sweet dreams," he snarls.

Peeta glares at him. I'm just silent. Let Haymitch drown himself in alcohol; let it kill him. I only wish I were brave enough to do it. At times, the fuzziness would be welcome. At least drinking would give me something to do.

"He's going to end up dead," Peeta says, voicing my thoughts, after Haymitch is gone.

I force myself to meet his eyes. "Maybe that's what he wants."

Peeta shakes his head, gathers his bowl, and goes to rinse it off in the sink. "No it isn't. You know Haymitch. If he wanted to die, he would've by now."

This makes me angry. I stand and throw my bowl down on the counter with a clatter. "Maybe he doesn't even know it himself! Just leave him alone."

"I can't," Peeta says calmly, which makes me even madder. Leave it to him, the hijacked Capitol mutt, to be cool in a situation like this. "He's done too much for us for me to stand by and watch him waste away."

"It's the least we owe him," I argue, stomping into the living room. Peeta follows and hesitates in the doorway, folding his arms across his chest awkwardly.

I start a fire, ignoring him to the best of my ability. A second later a spark catches and I have a soft, warm blaze. But I don't get too close. I never do.

"You can't say you wouldn't mind if he was gone," Peeta whispers. "You'd have to be cruel and heartless to say that."

"Maybe I am," I spit, turning around. "I understand what he feels. If it were up to me, I wouldn't be here. But I have to because I owe that to everyone who died for me."

"You're a fighter, Katniss," Peeta protests, but the waver in his voice shows how scared he is. He doesn't want me dead. I know that. "Fighters don't give up that easily."

I scoff. "I was never a fighter, Peeta. I was just a piece in their games. First Snow's, then Coin's…they made me what I was."

"How about at the reaping, then? When you volunteered for Prim?"

The sound of her name hurts me. My head spins and I see it. How the fire caught her body so quickly, trailed up her ducktail, uncontrollable. I suppress a scream.

"Don't say that," I manage to get out through clenched teeth. "I did that because I loved her, not because I was brave."

"You took care of me, right? You sacrificed yourself to save me?"

"That's because I owed you! I can't stand owing people."

"You've always told me it was because you cared."

I sink to the floor, shoving my fingers in my ears, trying to suffocate the sound of his voice. "Just go. Leave me alone."

"_Fine_." He stomps across the floor, and then my front door slams so hard I flinch. The house shudders. Surely I've brought on a hallucination. He'll have a horrible night. I feel a momentary pang of regret, but it vanishes with the thought of Prim.

How dare he bring my dead sister into anything.

Eventually I pick myself up off the floor, trudge upstairs, brush my teeth and wash my face. I go through the motions, like I am often forced to do in situations such as this. Finally I climb, stiff-limbed, into bed. The soft pillow does little to muffle my screams. I wake up in a cold sweat.

I don't even remember what my dream was about, only it was horrific and terrifying. I'd rather face death a thousand times over than watch others die. This isn't good. This is the second nightmare in one day.

Tomorrow, I'll have to call Dr. Aurelius. For now I just burrow back down under the blankets and try to fall back asleep.

* * *

><p>When the first rays of dawn come slanting through my window, I'm relieved. I get up and get dressed, hurry outside. The woods beckon me, pulling me forth with promise of fresh meat and plenty of air.<p>

The meadow is a pitiful sight. The earth is dry, caked and an ugly brown. I shudder as I walk across, toward the wire fence that is still standing, despite the hard times it has faced. The knowledge that I'm walking on a graveyard is too much to bear.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I step into the throng of trees. They swallow my fear, bearing it on their soft bark. I walk around aimlessly for a while, then decide I'll go to the lake. It's too cold for swimming, but the small concrete structure still stands, and I can start a fire. I only wish I'd bought food.

I hunt for a short time until I kill a squirrel, then gather some sweet buries that stain the tips of my fingers purple. The little house is a long walk, a few hours, but it's good for me. I come to it around noon, build a fire and skin the squirrel with my pocketknife. He makes for a tasty meal, once combined with the berries.

The last time I was here was…I don't even know. Was it when I came upon the two District 8 escapees? I came here with Gale, I remember. The thought of him sends a pang deep into my stomach. So far, he's written me three letters. I haven't answered any of them. The last one was a little over a month ago, and I've heard nothing since.

He told me a little bit about his "fancy" job in 2, working for the Capitol government. He went on and on about how much fun it is, how rewarding. But he never talks about what we both know I want to hear. Does he have a girlfriend? What is his house like? Does he still love me?

I don't love him. At least, I don't think I do. For a short while I wasn't sure. I let him kiss me, and I kissed him back. But then…with Prim…the bombs…

The images still hurt me, even here. I grab my head, trying to shut them out. Pull my hair. Claw my face. Nothing works. I'm stuck in that moment once more.

Tongues of flames, lashing out at her, singing her beautiful golden hair. Those kind eyes that loved everybody. Reducing her to ash.

"Katniss! Katniss!"

I hear his voice before I see him. Peeta hurries inside the house, shakes my shoulders. I stare at him, unseeing. How did he get here? My mind can't process it.

Finally, I push him away, panting. "I'm…I…"

"I followed you," he admits. "I'm sorry. I was up this morning and-"

I see it then. The marks on his wrists. Pain is the only thing that helps Peeta when the hallucinations come on, so the bruises or cuts we find after are telltale. He had a rough night, because the scratches are everywhere.

"I'm sorry," I gasp. "I know you weren't trying to hurt me…"

His eye is a little purple. Must have hit his head on something. A bit of dried blood coats his cheek. Without words, I lead him outside and make him sit on the ground, by the lake. I dip my fingers into the cool water and turn to him, slowly wiping away the blood. My fingers come back red but his face is clean, at least.

He closes his eyes. "Thank you."

I wash my hands in the water and sink down beside him, letting out a huge sigh. "We're a messed-up pair, we are."

He lays on his back, groaning slightly. His face is strained when he answers, "That we are."

"What's wrong?" I ask, genuinely concerned. He studies me for a moment, as if deciding to answer, then points to his prosthetic leg.

"Aches on cold days like these. It's better when it's off."

"Then take it off," I point out.

He shakes his head. "No…it's too…weird."

"For me or you?"

His eyes, flitting over to me briefly, is answer enough.

"I don't care, Peeta." I say with conviction.

"It's just…I know if you see it you'll feel bad. Won't you?"

Until then, I hadn't thought much about it, but I probably would. I just brush that comment off and reach for his leg.

He sits up and jerks away from my grasp. "I'll leave it."

"Come on. Take it off."

"No. I want to leave it on."

I roll my eyes and face away from him. "Fine."

For a moment we sit in silence, until I note we should probably get going. Peeta nods and stands at the same time I do. On our way back, I give him the last of my squirrel and pick some more berries. He studies the pile in his hand with a concerned look on his face for several minutes.

"Real or not real," he says slowly. "You gave me the poison berries so I would eat them and die and then you could become victor."

I look at him, feeling a flash of worry. "Not real. We both took them because I…well, I don't know. All I was thinking about at the time was how I couldn't stand it if you died and I lived."

"Was that really why you did it?" He asks.

"I don't know. People thought it was because I was trying to defy the Capitol. But I wasn't thinking about that at the time. I was thinking about…you."

He studies me. "You're not a bad person. No matter what you think."

I lower my eyes. "I don't think it's fair that I'm here today and no one else is. If I had just let Snow kill me—"

"But don't you see?" He asks in earnest. "People wanted to die for you. They wanted you to live, Katniss."

"I still don't know why."

"You gave them _hope_. You have such an affect on people."

I smile. "You've said that before. A lot."

"You do." He touches my cheek. "You had an effect on me."

"But you were stupid, back then."

He pulls his hand away. "Maybe I was. I don't know." We walk in silence for a few moments before he speaks again. "But I knew what I wanted. And that was you."

"And now?" I ask, feeling afraid.

He doesn't meet my probing gaze. "Now I just want to get better."


	36. Six: Present, Part Two

Note: MANY of you have been asking for this, so here it is! There will actually be a part 3 after all. Thanks for being so patient! Like I said, I'm working on my own stuff right now, so I haven't been doing a lot of Fanfic writing. :) But thanks for sticking with me!

If you like this chapter, I'd love it if you'd leave me a review. What do you think will happen next? (Which you can answer at the end of the chapter). To be honest, I'm not sure myself. (gah!) :D

Thanks so much!

-Homey

* * *

><p>Title: <strong>Present<strong> (Part Two)**  
><strong>

Oneshot Number: **Six (6.3)**

Premise: **Katniss and Peeta fell in love in the future. How about in modern times?  
><strong>

Why I liked it: **C'mon! Present Katniss and Peeta are fun to write! What's _not_ to like? :)**

This oneshot is dedicated to ily26. Thanks for this awesome idea, and thanks for reading _You Love Me_. I appreciate your support!

-Homey

P.S. A part three will follow. Eventually.

**Disclaimer: ** The Hunger Games does not belong to me. Which I am very sad about. (as you can imagine...)

©HomeschoolGirl 2012, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>He wasn't there.<p>

"Why didn't he come?" I asked Delly as innocently as I could manage.

She shrugged. "Sometimes he needs to be alone, I guess." She tapped her temple with a manicured fingernail. "He's so screwed up."

"It's a good thing he has you," I replied wryly.

She laughed. "Oh, Katniss. I'm the last thing _he_ needs."

That girl had a way of making me feel naïve.

* * *

><p>I slept my coke hangover off until noon the next morning—six cans of soda were way too much. Even then, when I woke up five hours later than usual, I could only manage to get a few saltines down. My stomach churned.<p>

I went on another walk, watched a cable movie, and drank lots of water. By Sunday morning I was recovered enough to down two huge heaping bowls of cornflakes, and three cups of coffee. My energy was unsustainable.

I took to the park for a brisk jog and ended up spending half the morning talking to a cute, hunky guy who was name meant to hit someone. He wrote his cell number on the back of my hand.

Hm. Maybe I didn't need Peeta after all. Not.

Walking into Lit Monday morning was similar to walking into the dentist. You get that gnawing in your stomach—I was unsure of what to expect. It was like being blind. Would you have a cavity or would everything go so perfectly the dentist would take one look inside your mouth and exclaim, "Teeth! Perfect!" Not that I was expecting Peeta to yell, "_Katniss! Perfect_!" when he saw me, but still. It would have been nice.

He was at his usual desk, minus Delly, who was seated by Madge. I ghosted right past him and stopped at my seat, waiting.

Delly smiled up at me. "Good morning, Katniss. You look lovely."

"Thanks," I said with a tinge of annoyance. "May I sit?"

"Madge is helping me with an algebra problem. We have the same class. Maybe…" She snuck an inconspicuous glance at her friend. "Maybe you can trade places with me? Would you care?"

"Yes I would care." Each word came out in a sharp hiss.

Madge rolled her eyes and pointed the tip of her pencil to the empty spot beside Peeta. "Sit. Now."

"But-"

"It's okay." Delly stood, much to my relief. "I'll move."

"No." Madge put her hand on her arm, and the blonde beauty sank back down. "No, you will not. Katniss, quit acting like a shy idiot and go sit next to him."

"I'm not in the mood for your matchmaking."

"It isn't matchmaking," Delly explained. "She really is helping me."

I took in their two hopeful faces. "Ugh. Fine. But I want both of your cookies at lunch. If Peeta brings any."

"Why don't you ask him?" Madge giggled.

I turned around. Peeta was staring right at us. Fan-_tas_-tic.

"Did you hear that?" I asked sheepishly as I shuffled over to him.

He dropped his head. His blonde bangs fell into his eyes. I had the overwhelming urge to run my fingers through them. "Yeah."

"They're being…" I plopped down into the hard plastic chair.

"Annoying."

"Insufferable."

"Incorrigible."

"Perfect. They are incorrigible." I groaned. "They won't give up!"

"On what?"

"Nothing. They just-"

"They just-"

"They just get an idea into their little heads and won't shut up." I grew quiet as our close-to-dead teacher shuffled around, handing out worksheets.

"I thought you've only known them for a week," he whispered when the teacher passed. I shivered as his breath blew against my ear. It was warm.

"Yes. But they're very easy to figure out," I whispered back.

"Eyes on your paper, Everdeen," the teacher snapped.

I raised my hand.

He sighed. "Yes, ma'am?"

"My name is Katniss."

"I am aware," he replied, drawing each word out to a horrible death. He wheezed a little. "As you can imagine, I am not in a state to be dealing with ungrateful delinquents such as yourself. Please listen, and refrain from questioning my authority. No fraternizing with the Mellark boy."

"We're hardly fraternizing, sir," I said softly.

"But you should be," Delly mumbled under her breath.

I glared at her. "Delly, please. I hardly know you. You're in no place to question my life or anything I do with it."

She looked a tad shocked by my outburst, and I was, too. What was happening to me? I stood, chair legs scraping loudly against the floor, and scooped up my books. I hurried from the room, ignoring my teacher's protests.

Peeta, of all people, stopped me in the hall. "Hey. Wait."

"What?" I snapped, turning around.

He recoiled. "I just…"

"I don't want to be here. I knew this was a bad idea." My face crumpled. "This isn't going to work. I should be home, helping my mother with Prim." I told myself to stop talking, but I just couldn't. No, no, no. Shut up, Katniss. "I hate everything about this place. The campus and the teachers and even the kids."

Peeta flinched. "You don't even know us."

"Do I have to?" My eyes watered. I was going to cry. "Maybe all I need is to know that you don't like me and that Delly and Madge are nice because…"

"They _like_ you," he said simply. "Don't ruin it. Please."

I buried my face in my hand. "Ugh. This is way too stressful."

He put his hand on my shoulder. I froze.

"Come have dinner with us. Me, Madge and Delly. We'll get to know each other."

"And if I don't?"

He grinned. "Then you'll be missing out." He headed back toward the classroom. "See ya, Katniss."

* * *

><p>I apologized to Delly and Madge the next morning. They forgave me readily, even though I didn't really deserve it.<p>

"So you will come to dinner with us?" Madge asked hopefully as we headed to lunch. She exchanged a smile with Delly.

"I guess." I shrugged. "When is it?"

They gave me the details, and I promised to see them that evening.

Getting dressed was a chore. I tried on pair after pair of pants, shirt after shirt, until I was satisfied. I pulled my hair back and dabbed on a bit of makeup. There.

The first person I saw upon walking into the restaurant was Delly. She was wearing a cocktail dress, with a little split up the thigh. I suddenly felt terribly underdressed in my plain black slacks and frilly blouse. Blah.

"Katniss!" She screeched when she saw me. "You look amazing. That shirt is so cute. You'll have to lend it to me sometime."

I allowed myself to be hugged by her, a bit warily. "Is Madge here yet?"

"No," she pouted. "Madge can't make it. Her mother's not feeling well. She gets, like, the most _terrible_ headaches. So it looks like it'll be you, me and Peeta."

"Oh," I said. "Great."

Right at that moment the devil himself waltzed through the door, so beautiful it hurt to look at him. I lowered my eyes as he walked up to us, pecked Delly on the check, and nodded to me.

"Sorry I'm late," He said, twirling his car keys around on his finger. "I stopped by a friend's to compare English notes."

"You should have told us, Peeta; we'd have helped."

"I know, Delly. But their house was on my way, so…" He smiled at me, and my stomach turned somersaults. "Plus, I'd rather spend the time getting to know Katniss. That's much more fun."

"Yeah." Delly giggled. "It sure is."

A waiter came to seat us. Delly stole the chair by Peeta's, leaving me directly across from them, the perfect place for scrutiny. I stared at the menu because I seemed to have absolutely nothing else to do.

What a loser.

"So," Delly said in her chipper way, after we'd ordered drinks. "You came here from Kentucky, right? And who's back home?"

"My sister, Prim. My friend, Greta. My mother."

"No dad?"

"No. He died…a few years back."

"Oh." She placed a hand over her heart, happiness fading. "That's…that's terrible. I'm so sorry."

I shrugged. Apologizes didn't bring him back, so I'd always found it strange that people did that first. Then came the questions.

Except, there weren't any from Delly. She just changed the subject.

"So. What's your sister like?"

I pictured Prim. Beautiful, golden hair. Bright eyes. A warm smile.

"Like me…only nicer. Prettier. Happier," I said after a moment.

Delly smiled. "Well, you're all those things, Katniss. Isn't she, Peeta?"

"Uh-huh," He muttered politely, frowning at something on his cell phone. For someone who had seemed so excited to have me along, he was very lackluster now.

"Is everything okay?" Delly whispered.

"Fine," He answered distractedly.

I pretended not to see the exchange, opting instead to stare at my plate. Fascinating. The white-on-white was very, um, classy. Gorgeous craftsmanship, too.

_Ugh_, I thought. _Say something. Be bold! Greta says that's what gets guys' attention. So do it! Say something! _

But Delly beat me to it. "I am just so tired! I'm, like, on my cycle right now, so don't be surprised if I started PMSing." She winked.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust but Peeta just laughed.

"That's your specialty isn't it, Del?"

Oh, great. They were better friends than I had thought. I mean, she was comfortable talking about _periods_ with him. God.

"So am I," I said, straightening up a bit. Liar, liar. And gross! Who even says that at the dinner table? In front of two people you hardly know?

Only me.

"Just kidding," I tacked on. "Ha-ha, so funny, right?"

Delly finally cracked a smile, although it looked forced. "Mm. So funny!" Her enthusiasm seemed to grow and she barked out a laugh. "Hilarious!"

A beep sounded from Peeta's phone. He looked at it. Again, the frown was back. It didn't suit him in the slightest.

"There's a bit of an emergency, at home," He muttered, looking up at Delly.

Something flashed in her eyes and she seemed to understand. "_Oh_. Okay. Well, go. Be safe? Okay?"

Another kiss on the cheek (this time from her to him), a non-committal pat on my back (when the kiss would have been better) and Peeta was gone, leaving behind the slightest tinge of cologne and the scent of old spice.

"This sucks," I said softly, deflating in my seat.

Delly smiled sympathetically. "We can plan something later, if you'd like."

"I don't know…" I stood up. "Maybe…I should head on home."

She looked over her shoulder. "I see someone I know. Mind if I stay?"

"Sure." We said our goodbyes and I headed for the exit.

Peeta's cologne offered a sort of trail down the bustling sidewalk. It was intoxicating. Without really thinking, I followed it. Screw going home—I wanted to make something out of this evening, and if following him pathetically like a stalker was what that entailed, then so be it. Besides, we were friends, right? And friends followed friends down crowded streets at eight o'clock in the evening on a daily basis.

It was completely sane. At least, that's what I told myself.

Up ahead I saw him, walking, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders drooped. He looked so alone.

"Peeta!" I called, on a whim. He turned around and saw me. No expression crossed his face other than an angry one. That was a bit discouraging, but I decided it probably wasn't directed at me. I jogged up beside him.

"We can take my car, if you want," I offered. "You know, might be faster."

"No, thanks. I'll walk." He turned away.

I grabbed his arm.

He looked back at me.

"Hey," I whispered. "It's fine. I'm not going to ask questions. Besides. It's…cold." I shivered. "Brrr, right?"

Finally, the slightest hint of a smile crossed his beautiful lips. "Right."

"Then let's go."

"Fine."

He followed me back to my car, wordlessly. I offered to let him drive but he declined. So instead I found myself, fifteen minutes later, following directions down a totally unfamiliar street. The houses were ramshackle, to say the least. Peeta finally told me to pull over to the curb. I did.

"You can go on home now," He murmured. "Thanks." He opened his door but hesitated and, so quickly it could have been my imagination, leaned across the console and kissed my cheek, lips barely brushing the corner of my mouth.

I melted.

"Y-you're welcome," I replied, but he was already gone, shutting the door softly behind him. I watched as he loped down the sidewalk, finally vanishing in the darkness of a burnt-out streetlamp.

Panic seized me once I could see him no more. What was he doing out here, in this horrid neighborhood, so late? Surely he didn't live here. I doubted it. No way.

So this was what? A drug deal? _God, please don't let it be that! _If it was and the police found him then he'd tell them I was an accomplice and…wait. Peeta didn't do drugs. He was clean-cut. Keen. Handsome.

So obviously, this was something else. But what?

Finally, I just decided to see for myself. I unbuckled my seatbelt, slung my purse over my shoulder, letting the strap settle on my chest, the way you're supposed to, you know, to keep people from stealing it.

I stepped out of my car, slowly shut the door, and locked it.

_Okay, Katniss. You can do this. Just…walk. _

So I did. I walked. I followed his direction. The smell of dirty garbage and B.O. overrode his cologne, though. Goodness. How did B.O. even linger out here, when there was absolutely nobody in sight?

I hesitated before the streetlamp. It was so black from here on out, I could see absolutely nothing. I pulled out my cell and dialed 9-1-1, hand posted over the SEND button, ready to be pressed at any given moment.

I stepped into the blackness.


	37. Not a Chapter, But Worth Reading, I hope

Hello Guys!

I wanted to let you know I've created a site for my writing. It features my original stuff as well, so you may want to check if out! If you want, you can send me a review, and I'll be more than happy to post it on the site. :) Thank you sooo much!

Here's the link:

writehomeschoolgirl DOT webs DOT

com!

^ And that is seriously the only way they'd let me post it. SO!

I'd love it if you'd visit! And maybe even give some of my original work a go. That would be awesome!

Thank yoooou.

I promise to update soon!

-Homey :D


	38. Six: Present, Part Three

Hi!

So...FINALLY...here is _Present: Part Three_. The last part. I know it's been forever since I last updated. I thank you so much for your encouragement. And I seriously cannot believe that I'm up to 692 reviews. That is crazy. It's only fitting that I post this month since (no kidding) it's been exactly one year and ten days since I posted the first chapter of _You Love Me_. And it remains my most-viewed fanfic on this site. Insanity!

I've read every review, smiled at each one, appreciated each word you guys take the time to type! I'm going to try and keep the oneshots coming on this fic. I still have several others to write. (Remember that thing, you know, when ya'll submitted your oneshot ideas? Yeah. Still need to finish those. And I will. Eventually.)

So, I owe you all a HUGE thank you. You have helped my writing improve in leaps and bounds. I finally wrote and finished a book I'm proud of this past December, and I'm hoping to get some people seeing it. If you check out my website (link in the chapter before this one, which wasn't a chapter, just a link) you can find the link to it. :)

Thanks for the support. Y'all are awesome! Reviews are so appreciated. And if you read this looong author's note, I thank you!

Title: **Present** (Part Three)

Oneshot Number: **Six (6/10)**

Premise: **Katniss and Peeta fell in love in the future. How about in modern times?**

Why I liked it: **C'mon! Present Katniss and Peeta are fun to write! What's **_**not**_** to like? :)**

This oneshot is dedicated to ily26. Thanks for this fantastic idea. I apologize for my lack of updating. And, most of all, thanks for reading _You Love Me_. I appreciate it so very much!

-Homey

**Disclaimer:** _The Hunger Games_ belongs to Suzanne Collins. Who is brilliant!

©HomeschoolGirl 2013, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>It was almost pitch black, right here under the streetlamp, cell phone in hand. I fumbled with the buttons. A few seconds later I had a steady, uninterrupted glow to lead me by. The flashlight app came in handy, times like these. You know, times when you were walking alone in a completely dark neighborhood.<p>

I thrust the phone forward, shining it across a row of still, ghostly, house-like frames. I supposed people lived in them, although it was hard to tell. I stepped forward. Something crunched under my shoe. My girly side wanted to scream and throw a fit, but that was only a small part of me. I looked down. The culprit was a broken beer bottle.

And, upon closer inspection, I now had a torn sole.

I had zero idea what house Peeta might have gone into, so all I could do was take a guess. I picked the nicest of the three homes and started forward. Voices could be heard before I was even halfway up the crumbling front sidewalk.

"—your freakin', no good brother—"

"Mom, please calm down. Did you..."

That second voice was _definitely_ Peeta's. How pathetic that I knew. I bit my lip and pondered going back to the car. This really was none of my business.

I literally had taken three steps before my foot caught on a raised piece of the broken cement and I was thrown forward. I let out an involuntary "Yow!" as gravity swiftly tugged me into a faceplant.

The voices halted mid-shout and there was a banging as a screen door was thrown open.

"Who's there?" A shrill voice demanded.

"Wait a second, mom."

I kept my head down, wholly embarrassed, as the beam of a flashlight bobbed forward, then lighted upon the back of my head. Someone sighed.

"Katniss." Peeta said, but it wasn't spoken like a question—more curse.

Slowly, I made my way to my feet, facing him. "Hi."

He narrowed his eyes.

"I apologize for, um, coming here." I gave a vague, unhelpful motion. "I was worried about you coming here...um...by yourself."

He scoffed. "To where _I live_?"

I'd had my mouth open, ready to retort, but I snapped it shut. Because what were you supposed to say to that? _Yeah, it looked like a shady, dingy craphole and I had to be sure you were safe? Um, no._

"It was a little silly," I amended at last.

He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply. "You just have to make an excuse, don't you?"

I instantly backtracked. "I'm not trying to make excuses. I was worried. That's all."

"And why's that?"

"Why's what?" I asked, dumbfounded.

He stepped forward, crossing his arms across his broad chest. "Why were you worried?"

"Oh, no rea—"

"Who is it, Peeta?" The woman who spoke finally stepped forward, close enough so that I could see her. She was big, but not heavy set, just sturdy in her shoulders and arms—kind of like Peeta. I realized as I took in her identical blue eyes that this must be his mother. The abusive one.

"Who're you?" She snapped, her voice raising with infliction at the end. "Why're you here?"

Peeta hurried to stand beside me. "She's a friend, mom."

"I don't like you bringing girls around! We were in the middle of a conversation!"

"It's okay, I can go," I rushed to say. I half-turned. Peeta reached out, took my arm, and squeezed.

"But she drove two hours to get here," He said, quietly. "We just need a few minutes."

I was holding my breath. My heart pounded.

"Fine," She relented. "But no more than five." With that, she whirled and stormed back inside. The screen door banged behind her. I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

"I'm sorry," I hurriedly apologized. "I'm so sorry."

He studied me. His gaze slowly softened. "It's fine. I get it."

"Get what?"

He walked forward a few paces, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I get that this place looked weird, and that you wanted to help. Or were curious, whatever."

"I thought..." I bite my lip, then blurt, "I thought maybe you were a drug lord!"

He snorts. "What? Me?"

"I know." I shook my head. "I'm sorry."

He sighed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot. "You've said that already."

"Right. Sorry."

We shared a brief look of amusement, but it quickly fell away. Secretly, I was filled with pleasure at how easy our conversation progressed, like we were old friends or something.

"Did I interrupt something?" I asked, unable to come up with anything better to say. So much for easy conversation. "You know, with your mom?"

He didn't seemed surprised that I'd guessed who she was. "Oh, no. Not really. She was just being a bi—um—pain about the electricity shorting out. It happened to the whole block."

"Does it do that a lot?"

He nodded. "Especially when people turn on too many things. And my brother—Gabel—he turned on some stupid high-voltage thing he wasn't supposed to. He cut our power, and then the other houses went out." He let out a long breath and rubbed his eyes. "It's just a lot for her to stress over."

"Sounds like it," I replied sympathetically. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not unless you know how to fix a whole-block power outage."

"Actually, it's what I'm going to school for."

"Not really."

I gave him a deadpan look. "Absolutely. Electrical engineering."

There was a beat of silence, and then he laughed. "You're ridiculous."

"What?" I feigned innocence. "I am!"

"Fine. Then fix it!"

I leaned against the streetlamp. Somehow, we had come full circle. "Okay, I lied. I can't."

He smiled. I did, too, and then it fell away when his eyes failed to leave mine. They lingered, oceans of sparkling blue; by far the prettiest color I'd ever laid eyes on.

I bit my lip. "Like I said, before, you know—I should go."

"Of course." He tousled his hair. "Thanks for checking up on me. And for not peeing your pants when you met the Big Scary Lady."

I rolled my eyes. "She's not scary."

"Really? I'm her son. And I think she's scary."

"Then you can go on being scared of her."

He backed away and waved. "Bye, Katniss. See you in school."

"Monday," I clarified, like I wasn't sure.

"Unless they've added another day-of-the-week, then yes, Monday."

I suppressed a laugh. "Okay. Bye, Peeta."

"Bye."

I walked back to my car in a kind-of daze. The neighborhood no longer seemed scary—it was _Peeta's_, after all, and Peeta was the opposite of scary.

Peeta was...he was nice. And funny. And generous. And careful. And dangerous, in an attractive, non-threatening way. And he was sweet to Delly and Madge, and he liked me enough to joke around with me.

As I slowly pulled away from the curb, that stupid street lamp came to life.

The power was back on.

* * *

><p>Monday came, raging in with a storm that rattled the windows. Eventually our teachers dismissed class early, fearing we wouldn't be able to get home if the rain and lightning kept up.<p>

"Hey, Katniss?" Peeta asked as we gathered our things.

I looked up, getting the sort of feeling in my throat that you get when something's startled you. The startling thing, in this case, being that he was addressing me. "Yes?"

"I'm going over to this food pantry when I leave. It's only a couple of blocks. I go there every few days to make bread for them, and I wondered..."

"Yes?" I repeated, anxious.

He was stuck trying to cram his folder into his bag along with everything else. I stepped forward and deftly slipped it from his hands, carefully sandwiching it between two thick textbooks.

"Thanks," He said.

I raised my head. "You were saying?"

"Oh, right." He grabbed his backpack. "I go there to make bread, and usually I bring a friend with me, you know, to help. Or keep company, whatever you prefer."

"Helping, definitely," I said, as a rosy glow spread through me. _Friend_. We were friends.

"Great." He smiled. "We'll take the bus, if you don't care."

"No problem."

As we walked out, shielding ourselves from the pouring rain with our backpacks, I thought to ask, "Who usually goes to these things with you?"

"Oh," He shrugged. "Delly or Madge. But neither of them could come today."

Yes, this was great. I was going to bake bread with Peeta.

It was going to be just him and me: Miss His-Third-Choice.

* * *

><p>The food pantry was in an even worse part of town than his house. It was slate-grey and sided, with a hand-painted sign out front, the only thing that identified it for what it was. Inside, the home had been stripped, so it was more of a shell than anything. Very industrial.<p>

He led me back to a coatroom, where we dropped our bags and hung up our jackets. Then we moved to the kitchen. Peeta said hello to a plump woman stirring mac and cheese while he scrubbed his hands.

"Rue," He said, as I moved to wash mine. "This is Katniss. I don't think you've met her."

"Nope," She said, placing a hand on her hip. "But it's real good to see another young kid here. We don't get many of 'em. Alls they want to do is party and slack off. I like kids with drive."

I attempted to tear off a small piece of paper towel and ended up with half the roll. "Um. I'm sorry."

She huffed as she stomped over to the pantry, pulling out a new roll. "Paper is money!" She said, shaking it as she set it down next to the half-used one. "Don't be taking alla these for yourself. Day-um. The mac's sticking."

As she hurried back to the stove, cursing under her breath, Peeta motioned for me to follow him into another part of the kitchen. It was sectioned off from the other, bigger space. Back here it was just an old oven, a four-foot slab of countertop, and a wire shelf crammed with various pans and baking ingredients. Peter selected a silver bowl and flour, then shook some in without measuring.

"I have some sourdough starter in the fridge," He said. "Could you get that for me, please?"

"Oh, sure," I said, then hurried to do his bidding, even though I had no idea what _sourdough starter_ was. Sounded intimidating. I searched through the fridge but found nothing that resembled this (at least, not in my head) until Rue had to point out a jar with some spongy-looking stuff in it. I grabbed it and rushed back to Peeta, almost tripping in the process. He was standing there, casually leaning against the counter, drumming out a song on his thigh.

"Hey, thanks," He said, taking the starter from me. He unscrewed the lid and sniffled deeply. "Want to smell?"

I did—yuck. It was not nice at all. I wrinkled my nose. Peeta laughed.

"What? You don't like."

I shook my head. "I'll pass."

"You're telling me you haven't had sourdough?" Peter dumped some of the starter in the bowl.

"No—I'm sure I have." I watched as he added some water. Still no measuring.

"Okay, this—" He held the bowl out. "—needs to sit overnight. There's another one in there, looks just like this. Would you get it for me?"

"Sure." I took it, wondering why he was entrusting _me_ with all of this locating and successfully bringing forth stuff. Unless I was just his slave runner.

That time I found the bread easily and brought it back. Peeta added some more flour and salt, then reached for a wooden bread board. I watched, mesmerized, as he began kneading the dough. Slowly, at first, then more firmly. He got into a sort of rhythm. And, I'm sorry. I know it's crude to say.

But it was, by far, the hottest he'd ever looked.

I settled by the wire rack, content to observe. For the next ten-minutes or so, he worked with the bread. Taking it off the board, letting it rise while he started on something else, kneading a second time. Peeta finally let it go, saying it needed to rise for a couple of hours before he could stick it in the oven.

I figured he'd take a break, but he continued to pound out loaf after loaf of bread. Eventually, I wandered into the kitchen to help Rue finish cooking dinner. A few people started to arrive, and I filled their plates.

"Do you cook here a lot?" I asked her, as I spooned out some of the macaroni and cheese. It had come out well after all.

Rue chuckled. "Baby, I own the place. I'm here alla the time. Never seems like I leave."

The woman who accepted her plate from me smiled at Rue. "Without her, we'd be nothing."

"Come on now, Melinda. Don't embarrass me.

"I'm not! It's the truth, Rue—and you know it, well as I do."

Rue dismissed the compliment with a wave. I turned around to smile at her.

Steadily, person after person, the place began to fill up. Rue called break time and made a plate for herself, heading over to sit with Melinda and another girl at an old, fifties-era table. As she wove between the happy, feasting people, she stopped and said hello, small-talked and listened as they related their days to her.

This was a woman who was special. That much I could tell.

I finally took a couple of the plates and spooned some food on for Peeta and I. A few seconds later and we were eating. He was up to his elbows in soft, white flour. He didn't even _try_ washing it off.

"I can help you, after this," I offered, taking a huge bite out of some oyster stuffing. "If you trust me."

"I trust you," He assured me. "But bread is a humongous undertaking. Are you sure?"

I laughed at his faux-serious tone. "Yes. I'm sure. I'm going to try. And if I fail—"

"—then you'll be sentenced to death!"

"We'll call it..." I thought for a moment, then waved my fork around. "The Bread Games!"

Peeta shook his head to himself. "You're clinically insane. You know that?"

"I'm aware."

* * *

><p>He wasn't kidding when he called bread an undertaking.<p>

Seriously, it was far more difficult than I'd anticipated. For the next half-hour or so, he made up the bread, and I kneaded it out. I got a few loaves in before Peeta pointed out that I was doing it wrong. He stood behind me, curling my hands into proper fists with his own, and carefully showed me how to punch it out.

"I think I got it," I said, breathless. Him being in this close of a proximity did that to me. Slowly, he let go of my hands and stepped back. I wished for him to be near again.

"Like this?" I asked after a moment.

He nodded his consent.

The oven was cranked up, and as many loaves as possible were crammed in. There were at least ten. While the first batch of bread baked, we cleaned up. I looked at the clock at did a double take. It was almost nine.

"I can't believe it," I said, shaking the flour off the wooden board into the trashcan. "Time flew."

"Yeah. It does, when you're with someone else."

I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. "And you're here how often?"

"About every three days. Until Rue runs out of bread."

"Wow. I had no idea."

He was at the big sink in the corner, rinsing out one of the silver bowls, but he turned around to smile at me. "You should come with me again. It was fun."

"Yeah."

Peeta hesitated before stepping forward. "You..."

"What?" I raised a hand to my cheek instinctively.

He reached out and swiped at my cheek. "You had flour."

"Oh." I stared down. "Thanks."

For a moment, we were silent. Then the oven rang out, clear as a bell. Peeta hurried to it and pulled out the first five loaves. A delicious smell filled the room.

I wandered over to stare at what we'd made. They were beautiful, those loaves of bread. Perfectly golden brown and crusty at the top. As Peeta laid them out to cool on the wire rack, I reached out and poked one, to test its softness. It was perfect.

"Hey, you kids?"

We whirled around. Rue stood in the small archway that led into here, hands on her hips. "I'll stick these last loaves in. You get on home, okay?"

"Are you sure?" Peeta asked.

She nodded. "Yup."

He reached for a loaf. "Do you mind if I cut a couple pieces."

"Don't mind if I do." She walked forward and accepted her slice of bread from him, biting in. "Ooh, babe. This is good. This the sourdough?"

Peeta nodded. "You bet."

"Mmm." She closed her eyes. "Delicious." They flew back open, darting to me. "Will you come again, Katniss?"

Almost shyly, I nodded. "Sure."

"Good, good. I'll see you two. 'Night."

Peeta grabbed our slices. "Come on, Katniss."

We made our way outside. The rain had finally stopped, and a sort of peaceful calm had settled in the air. I breathed deep. There was nothing—nothing—like the smell of the rain.

As I took a bite, I realized there was also nothing like the taste of sourdough.

Peeta smiled at the stunned look on my face. "What? Did you not trust me?"

"It's not that." I took another bite, chewed, swallowed. "I guess I just figured it'd taste as awful as that starter smelled."

"I like the smell of starter," He protested.

"You're clinically insane."

He smiled at the fact that I was quoting him. "I'm aware."

We ate in silence for a few minutes. Then, "So. Did I win The Bread Games?"

He nodded. "I think you did."

"That's funny," I said. "I think _you_ did."

He paused. "Well...what do you think?"

"What?"

"Can there be two victors?"

We had arrived at the bus stop. I rocked from foot to foot as we waited.

"I think...this time...we should make an exception."

"Do you think that breaks the rule of The Bread Games?"

"Probably." I shrugged. "But then again, we made it up, so we can have whatever rules we want."

Up ahead, I saw two twin headlights. The bus was almost here.

Peeta reached out, took my hand, and squeezed.

"Congratulations, Katniss Everdeen. Winner of the Bread Games!"

"Congratulations, Peeta..." I paused. "Peeta..."

He laughed. "You seriously don't know my last name?"

"No! How am I supposed to know?"

His lips turned up at the corners. "It's Mellark."

"Well, congratulations, Peeta Mellark. You, too, have won."

The bus pulled up and came to a stop. The doors hissed open.

"We should do it again," He said, as we climbed aboard.

I sat down next to him in one of the cracked bus seats. Tonight was definitely the night that had changed what direction we were going in. No longer acquaintances, we were now friends.

As in, friend-friends. Friends that, in time, might become more.

One could hope, right?

"Definitely," I said, as the bus started moving. "We should."


	39. Seven: Facebooked

SECOND UPDATE IN ONE DAY.

I got started on this and just kept going until it was done.

I love reviews. Thanks for all of 'em.

-Homey :D

Title: **Facebooked**

Oneshot Number: **Seven**** (7/10)**

Premise: **Ree has a facebook, and she's refuses to accept her parents' friend requests. But Peeta...well, he decides he needs to keep tabs on his daughter. So he friends her. Without her knowing.**

Why I liked it: **The whole idea is just SO. MUCH. FUN. ****  
><strong>

This oneshot is dedicated to _tuckinyourducktail13_. First of all, awesome, awesome same. Secondly, awesome, awesome idea. I hope you like it! Thanks for your support. :)

Let me know whatcha think, guys! If you have the time. :D

-Homey :D

**Disclaimer:** _The Hunger Games_ is not mine, in any way shape or form. *sighs*

©HomeschoolGirl 2013, or at least this actual post is. The characters, not so much. But anyway, please don't use this as your own. Thanks!

* * *

><p>Log in<p>

_You have a friend request from Peeta Mellark. Accept or Decline?_

Decline.

_You have a friend request from Pansy Manchester. Accept or Decline?_

Accept.

Open Chat

ReeM: Hi Pansy. Do I know you?

PansyM: Yes.

ReeM: From?

PansyM: School.

ReeM: Oh. I didn't remember you, sorry.

PansyM: It's fine.

Pansy M has left chat.

Close Chat

Newsfeed. Upload. Attach File: _Funtimes._

**Notification! Pansy Manchester has commented on your photo.**

_Caption: Me & Abe w/ the gang_

Pansy Manchester: What are you guys drinking? (2 minutes ago)

Ree Mellark: Umm...soda? (10 seconds ago)

**Notification! Pansy Manchester has commented on your photo.**

Pansy Manchester: Not liquor? (1 minute ago)

Ree Mellark: No. (30 seconds ago)

Pansy Manchester: Looks like fun. (10 seconds ago)

Ree Mellark: I guess. (5 seconds ago)

Log out

* * *

><p>NEXT DAY<p>

* * *

><p>Log in<p>

_You have a friend request from Peeta Mellark. Accept or Decline?_

_Decline._

**Notification! 5 comments from Pansy Manchester.**

_Caption: Me and Edgar the bakery. Lots of fun!_

Edgar Barre: Always fun with you, Ree! ;) (2 months ago)

Pansy Manchester: Who is that? (5 hours ago)

Pansy Manchester: Is that your boyfriend? (4 hours ago)

Pansy Manchester: Who is he? (4 hours ago)

Pansy Manchester: Why is he at the bakery? (3 hours ago)

Pansy Manchester: Hello? (1 hour ago)

Ree Mellark: My friend, no, my friend, because he wanted to be why do you care? (15 minutes ago)

Edgar Barre: I forgot about this photo. Who is Pansy? (5 minutes ago)

Pansy Manchester: I'm from school. (2 minutes ago)

Edgar Barre: I don't think I know you. Do you have a picture on your profile? (1 minute ago)

Pansy Manchester: No (10 seconds ago)

**One new message from Edgar Barre!**

Edgar Barre: Hey, Ree, can you open chat? Thanks.

Open Chat

ReeM: Yeah?

EdgarB: I think you should defriend Pansy.

ReeM: Why?

EdgarB: She's being creepy commenting on all your photos. She doesn't even have a picture up. She could be, like, a guy or something.

ReeM: I know. *shudders* I'm going to.

_EdgarB is typing..._

**Notification! 1 comment from Pansy Manchester.**

Ree Mellark: Uggh...hard day. Dad had me baking ALL AFTERNOON. I love him, but sometimes I can't stand bread! lol.

Pansy Manchester: Why don't you like baking? (1 minute ago)

**New Chat Message.**

Open

EdgarB: I really miss you. I'd love to see you sometime. It's been forever; since I graduated. Do you think we could meet up tonight? It'd be great to see you.

ReeM: Yeah. Def. what time?

EdgarB: 8? Where to meet?

ReeM: Meadow. See you then! :)

EdgarB: Bye, babe. ;D

_EdgarB has left chat._

Close chat

Log out

* * *

><p>THE NEXT DAY<p>

* * *

><p>Log in<p>

Newsfeed. Status update.

Ree Mellark: Finally! My Dad has stopped requesting me to be his friend. Do parents not get it? Do any of your guys' parents do this?

Submit

Log out

* * *

><p>LATER<p>

* * *

><p>Log in<p>

**Notification! You have four new comments from Rachel Darwin, Edgar Ba**

Rachel Darwin: All. The. Time. Finally, my mom told me I have to accept her as a friend if I want a facebook!.So unfair! (3 hours ago)

Edgar Barre: Hahaha! No, I'm lucky. Grandma's too old to know about facebook. ;) (1 hour ago)

Pansy Manchester: I always accept my parent's friend requests. It's rude not to. (40 minutes ago)

Abe Mellark: ^ Weird. :P (15 minutes ago)

Ree Mellark: Rachel-haha! Good tactic! My Dad's not smart enough to figure that one out. Edger-luuucky. Had fun w/ you last night. Abe-RUDE. Little brothers suck! (1 minute ago)

**Notification! You have 2 new comments from Pansy Manchester and Ab Me**

Pansy Manchester: That's kind of rude to say about your dad. (2 minutes ago)

Abe Mellark: You suck! ^ And who is that? (1 minute ago)

Ree Mellark: Pansy-I was just jk. Abe-idk. A girl from school.

Open Chat

AbeM: Pansy's a creeper!

ReeM: She's not from Minecraft, idiot.

AbeM: No! Seriously! She's a creeper.

ReeM: What, like, a creep?

AbeM: Yesssss. You're a little slow today.

ReeM: Shut up. If you want to complain about Pansy, come do it to my face. I can hear you typing in the next room. Who's the loser now? ;)

AbeM: That's Dad, not me. HA! NOW WHO IS THE LOSER?!

Close Chat

Log out

* * *

><p>THE NEXT DAY<p>

* * *

><p>Log in<p>

_You have a friend request from Peeta Mellark. Accept or Decline?_

Decline.

**Notification! Edgar Barre has sent you a relationship request. Accept or Decline?**

Accept.

_Ree Mellark is now in a relationship with Edgar Barre. (5 minutes ago)_

Edgar Barre: I like the sound of that. ;) (1 minute ago)

**Notification! You have 6 new comments from Abe Mellark, Pansy Man**

Abe Mellark: GROSS. (10 minutes ago)

Pansy Manchester: I thought he was just your friend! Why are you dating? (7 minutes ago)

Rachel Darwin: AWWW. So cute. Ignore your brother, Ree! (and Pansy...wtf?) You guys were MEANT for each other. I want photos immediately! (4 minutes ago)

Eletta Endaya: Love you guys together. Adorkable. LUV (2 minutes ago)

Clue Whippley: Happy for you, bro! And bro's girlfriend. (1 minute ago)

Pansy Manchester: What is wtf? (50 seconds ago)

Abe Mellark: ^ Who doesn't know wtf? (10 seconds ago)

Rachel Darwin: Google it. (Just a second ago)

**Notification! You have 4 new comments from Pansy Manchester, Rachel Dar**

Pansy Manchester: That's so inconsiderate! Kids shouldn't be using that language. (3 minutes ago)

Rachel Darwin: Stfu. -Now look that up. You'll like it tons better. :) (2 minutes ago)

Abe Mellark: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. (1 minute ago)

Edgar Barre: Guys, please. (20 seconds ago)

Ree Mellark: I'm going to have to delete this if you guys won't stop. Pansy, idek you! Why do you care who I date? Sorry, but it's weird. (Just a second ago)

**One new message from Pansy Manchester.**

Pansy Manchester: Ree, you probably shouldn't be dating this Edgar guy. I looked on his page and he's liked inappropriate pages, and he uses curse words. You probably shouldn't be hanging around him. It's not a good idea.

Search: Pansy Manchester

Defriend

_You have defriended Pansy Manchester._

Block

_You have blocked Pansy Manchester._

Newsfeed. Status update.

Ree Mellark: Sorry about Pansy, guys! I should have never accepted her friend request. She's been defriended and blocked. So weird! Thanks, guys, for being so awesome. Love you all.

Submit

Log out

* * *

><p>THE NEXT DAY<p>

* * *

><p><em>You have a friend request from Peeta Mellark. Accept or Decline?<em>

Decline.

**Notification! You have 3 new comments from Abe Mellark, Edgar Barr**

Abe Mellark: Hate to break it to you, but 'Pansy' was Dad. I heard him asking mom why you weren't showing up on his page anymore this morning. I didn't have time to tell you, sorry. I had to go to school. I'm sure you're thrilled. (One hour ago)

Edgar Barre: No way! LOL! No wonder he was so mad. Sorry, Ree. (40 minutes ago)

Rachel Darwin: HOLY $#!&! I told your Dad to stfu! Oh my god I'm so embarrassed. Can I come over after school and apologize? SO SORRY. (10 minutes ago)

Ree Mellark: Abe-I hate you! Jk. Sort of. BUT WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME SO I COULD BUST HIM THIS MORNING?! That's so weird. I should have known. Edgar-Haha! Have fun laughing at me. :P Rachel-Don't worry. I'll talk to him and make sure everything's okay. He was being really annoying. He's in huge trouble with me. Huge. (1 minute ago)

Log out

* * *

><p>THE NEXT DAY<p>

* * *

><p>Newsfeed. Status update.<p>

Ree Mellark: Talked to Dad about the Pansy situation! He says sorry, Rachel Darwin and everybody. He felt bad. Mom was so mad! It was hilarious. But seriously...Dad's are crazy. From now on, people with parents who want them to be friends with them on Facebook, I'd accept their requests. Because if you don't...well...this happens.

Submit

Log out

* * *

><p>LATER THAT DAY<p>

* * *

><p>Log in<p>

**Notification! You have 3 new comments from Edgar Barre, Abe Mell**

Edgar Barre: :) I'd like to meet your parents and show them that I'm not some loser who's going behind their back with you. Give me a time, and I'll be there. Then maybe your Dad will be less nuts about us. Love, Ed (1 hour ago)

Abe Mellark: First, ^ allow me to vomit in my mouth a little. Second, I'll put in a semi-good word for you, Ed. But only semi. (30 minutes ago)

Edgar Barre: Thanks, Abe. (10 minutes ago)

Ree Mellark: *shakes head slowly* Abe...and Ed, I'll get w/ you on that. For sure. I'd love for you to meet Mom and Dad. :) (Just a second ago)

* * *

><p>THE NEXT DAY<p>

* * *

><p>Log in<p>

_You have a friend request from Peeta Mellark. Accept or Decline?_

Accept.

Log out

* * *

><p>A FEW DAYS LATER<p>

* * *

><p>Log in<p>

**You have a new message from Edgar Barre**

Great seeing you and your family last night. I loved it. Tell your mom thanks for dinner. And I'll see you in a few hours. Love, Ed

Reply to Message

Me, too. See you. Love, Ree

**You have a new message from Edgar Barre**

Hey. Your Dad just sent me a friend request. What should I do?

Reply to Message

DECLINE. DECLINE. DECLINE.

**You have a new message from Edgar Barre**

LOL! Okay.

Reply to Message

*sigh* On the other hand, you may want to accept. We don't want a repeat of last time, right? And he shouldn't cause much trouble. It's up to you.

**You have a new message from Edgar Barre**

Fine with either. You decide. Love, Ed

Reply to Message

Oh, what the heck. Accept it. Love, Ree

Log out


	40. A Very Katniss Christmas (Oneshot)

Oh, hello stranger. How are you?

But I guess I've been the stranger. The last time I posted something for this story was, I daresay, almost a year ago. My apologies! Anyway, I meant to finish this before Christmas, but I just couldn't get into it. So, today, I sat down and wrote it for you guys. It's really simple, but hopefully effective. I wanted to get a look at the kind of Christmas Katniss might have had after her Dad died. Anyway.

I saw _Catching Fire_! I thought it was really good. :) The acting was better, and I like the characters. I liked the arena scenes as well, and the director was SO MUCH BETTER. I understand what Gary Ross was going for (at least, I think I do) but the shakiness of before made it hard to focus on at times. This was very clean-cut, very well done. I always have _Hunger Games_ nostalgia though. I remember posting chapters of _You Love Me_ and absolutely _dying _to see the movie. I think I saw it in theaters, like, three times. :D Anyway, here we are, two years later. Crazy, huh?

As for my other writing, if you're interested-I've been working on a story since November. It started as something for NaNoWriMo (and I won-just barely-with 50,280 words. AH!) and has grown into something much more. I'm really proud of it. It's going to need some polishing, and I have to _finish_ it still (it's at 85,000 words!) but I plan to enter it in ABNA. (Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award). If it gets to any important rounds, I will let you guys know! And then maybe you can read it, vote for me? Either way, I'd love for you to read it once ABNA is over. If you'd like to.

I also started a YouTube channel! :D You just type the regular web address for YouTube and add a slash and then this: memaddiesings. Please check it out and subscribe, thumbs-up, or whatever! If you like it!

Okay, I think that's everything. For those that are interested, I have a blog. You just type the regular web address for Wordpress and then a slash and then this: needtuning. I talk about my life and my cat and being gluten-free and music and One Direction and stuff.

I'd love to know your thoughts on this chapter! I always do!

Thank you all so very much!

Much love and thanks,

-Homey

P.S. GRAMMY'S TONIGHT! Who's gonna watch? I know I am! Exicted to see Taylor Swift and to see Carole King and Sara Bareilles to a song together. That's pretty cool.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, dontcha know it.

©HomeschoolGirl 2014-2015. Please don't use as your own.

* * *

><p><span>A Very Katniss Christmas<span>

Christmas in the Capital.

It was a sordid affair, one that expended so many resources it made you sick just thinking about it. Still, everyone in District Twelve was gathered around the live footage set up in the hob, absolutely rapt with attention as they watched the lights being strung upon an eight-story-tall tree. The camera flashed to a shot of a long banquet table, laden with piles of exquisite, steaming food. Some hungry soul let out a whimper in the back of the crowd.

That soul was Katniss Everdeen. The scrawny thirteen-year-old hadn't eaten a bite since early that morning, out hunting in the woods with Gale. They'd given in to the pangs of hunger and roasted their only kill—a squirrel—over hot coals, devouring it all within seconds. Wasn't even enough for one person, that squirrel, much less a ravenous girl and her starving family or a broad-shoulder boy and his siblings.

Gale let her have most of it, knowing very well his mother Hazelle would have conjured up something or other for them to eat, though food was sparse this time of year. The thick snow that covered the grounds made hunting harder and food from the other districts was rarely imported into Twelve, since it was so far from everything. They had a couple ample shipments of grain and sugar, some salt pork before the snow made traveling hard, but not much else.

"I'm going to go back out after this," Katniss had said, wiping her fingers on her pants. She tried to ignore the pangs of guilt she felt over not saving any for Prim. Or maybe those were hunger pains. She wasn't sure.

"You're not gonna find anything, Catnip," Gale said knowledgeably. "Why don't I just ask my Mom for some food? She'll have enough to spare you guys."

"Don't," Katniss snapped. "It's embarrassing."

"It's not—"

"My mother can take care of it, like yours. Should."

"Should," Gale agreed, standing up. He offered an already-calloused hand to Katniss. "But won't."

The food looked so good, as she stared at it now. God, she must get Prim something. She was so small, and she ate so little, but still.

"Greyson," Katniss said a moment later, standing in front of a graying man in his forties. His table was littered with little bits and pieces of meat. Some salt pork. An ancient jar of canned ham. A graying rabbit leg. Treasure, as far as District Twelve was concerned.

"What would you give me—" She said, thinking quickly. Already there was a line forming behind her, a line full of willing-to-pay customers. The TV spot was over, apparently. "What would you give me for—"

"Aw, I can't do none a that, Katniss," Greyson said, his mouth drawn into an apologetic frown. "I got a family to feed myself."

She switched tactics. "Is there anything of ours I could trade you? For that—that ham?"

"Not the ham," He said, absently tapping the lid of the jar. "I could get a pretty penny for this."

Her stubborn gaze turned to the floor as she took a breath. "Please?"

Perhaps it was seeing the strong-willed Katniss beg, but for whatever reason Greyson's resolve softened.

"Tell you what," He said, leaning forward. "If you give me that gorgeous little stone of yours—the one that rests on the mantlepiece, from the beach, then I'll give you this salt pork."

"You promise?" Katniss asked fiercely, tightening her grip on the counter. "I want all of it. All five pieces."

"Yes."

"Okay." She backed away from the counter. "See you in ten minutes."

"Ten," He agreed, and turned to the next customer. But not before discreetly sweeping the bit of salt pork up in his hands and tucking it into his pocket, out of view. It was Katniss's now.

She sprinted home in the falling snow. It almost made the district look picturesque. Katniss could have loved snow, if it didn't make hunting hard. It softened everyone's hard edges. It covered the grey.

Prim was sitting by the stove when Katniss walked in, trying to keep warm. Her mother had let the coals burn dangerously low again. And though Katniss had attempted to teach her, Little Prim was just too weak to do it herself. Katniss sighed and went to fetch some new coal.

"Step back," She cautioned as she came in, carrying it in her bare arms. Prim scooted her chair just far enough away for Katniss to throw them into the stove's belly. A lot of hot ash puffed up in response, coating Katniss's cheeks.

Prim giggled when she turned around. "You look funny."

"I do, do I?" She wiped her face with her shirtsleeve. It came back dirty. She glanced toward the back bedroom, where she could just make out her mother's slight frame poking out from beneath a worn quilt.

"Has she been there all day?" Katniss asked, scarcely above a whisper.

Prim nodded, lost in her eyes. Then she took a breath, brightening. "Did you get food?" Her eyes probed Katniss's pockets for bundles, but they were flat as the line of her mouth.

"Not just yet, little duck," Katniss said, reaching out to ruffle Prim's cornsilk hair. "I'm just about to. I wanted to come by to check on you." She glanced toward the bedroom. "Stay by the fire, all right, but don't get burned."

"Okay," Prim said. She hunched over in her seat, cradling her pointed chin in her thin hands. "I'll wait here."

Katniss wandered back into the bedroom they all shared and stood at the foot. Her mother had the quilt pulled over her head. Only the crown of her light hair could be seen. She touched it.

"Mom."

Mrs. Everdeen stirred in response.

"Mom. You can't let the fire burn out."

She rose her head a fraction of an inch, like it hurt her, and stared at Katniss. There was a blankness in her eyes that had been alarming a year ago, when Katniss's father died. Now it was just there, something to be dealt with. She met her mother's gaze as evenly as she could.

"You can't let the fire go so low when I'm gone. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Every thirty minutes you need to restock it."

Her head listed to the side, like it was too heavy for her neck to support.

"Do you promise?"

Her tongue flicked out to wet her dry lips. "Yes."

Katniss turned and swept out of the room. She waved to Prim again as she went through the kitchen, giving her a thumbs-up to let her know everything was okay. Then she grabbed her father's stone and swept out of the house.

* * *

><p><em>He used to go to places far away, when business called for it. He'd be gone for days, and when he came back, there would be treasures. Honeyed almonds. Delicious, delicate cakes that shattered in his pockets. Even now, Katniss could remember licking her fingertips and catching the crumbs on them, trying to get every last bit.<em>

_Once he brought back a stone. It was the color of fresh cherries—the ones Katniss had seen on TV, in the Capitol—threaded with spirals of the most lovely violet._

_"Where did you get this?" Katniss breathed, cradling it in her tiny palm, like a precious gem._

_"From the beach."_

_"The beach?" She glanced up, eyes ablaze. "What's that?"_

_"It's a place that carries salt in the air," He said, stooping over to meet her eyes. "There's sand, and endless water the color of the sky on a beautiful day."_

_"Did you buy it?"_

_"No. I just picked it up."_

_"Stole it?" Suddenly, the object felt foreign in her hand. She tipped it toward her father, wanting no part._

_He seemed to understand, and laughed. "No, no, Katniss. On the beach, beautiful things like this lay in the sand, waiting to be picked up. They cost nothing."_

_"Wow."_

_"And it's yours. I saw it and thought of you."_

_She pressed it to her chest. "Thank you."_

_"Of course, my sweetheart." He touched her hair. It was loose, flowing down her back. "Now I should go see your Mama. Did she miss me?"_

_"Always," Mrs. Everdeen called out from the next room._

_Katniss stared at that stone._

* * *

><p>"Here," She announced, laying the stone on the counter. Greyson's eyes lit up.<p>

"A beauty to be sure," He said, examining it closely. Something twisted in Katniss's stomach. Her eyes burned. He didn't notice. "Tell me, where did he get this?"

"On the beach."

"Exquisite, innit? Don't see things like this around District Twelve."

"No. You don't. My salt pork?"

"Of course." He handed the small bundle to her. Just enough to last them a couple days. In exchange for something her father had given her, a little remnant left in his memory. She stared at that smooth stone, the color of cherries. The color of blood.

"Thanks," She said, and turned away, tucking the food beneath her coat. The snow had picked up, and the walk back home was cold, but she went slowly. The fresh air kept the tears at bay. It was worth it, though, when she stepped into the house fifteen minutes later and cut a generous slice of salt pork for Prim. The stove was running low again, and Katniss added more coals. She cooked the food for her sister and set it in front of her. Prim dug in with eager hands, exclaiming over its deliciousness. Katniss picked at her tiny portion and eventually gave up. She gave it to her mother, who picked it apart with her fingers. There was no time for elegance.

* * *

><p>Gale came by on Christmas Eve with a half loaf of bread. Katniss smiled as she took it from him.<p>

"Merry Christmas," He said. His cheeks were red with the cold.

"You're early," She noted, turning around to set the bread on the counter. He only nodded.

"Mr. Mellark gave it to me when I came by this morning with a turkey for him. And some muffins, but Mom wanted those for dinner tomorrow. What are you going to do?"

"Nothing," Katniss said with a tiny shrug.

"I've been helping Mom to throw together some presents for the kids. Dolls and such. Does Prim need anything?"

She thought about it. Prim never expressed an interest in toys, but that might be because she knew they couldn't afford them. Katniss shrugged.

"I can figure it out, Gale, thanks."

"Whatever you say, Catnip." He tugged the end of her braid. Then, "Stay warm."

"I will," She promised, because she knew he wasn't just saying that. Around here, people never just said anything. If those spoke, their words meant something.

He said goodbye and left. Katniss wandered over to the bread to poke at it. She saw now it was stale, probably from a couple of days ago. Even Mr. Mellark couldn't spare fresh bread in the spirit of giving, and he was just about the nicest guy in the district. Sometimes she'd stop at the window and he'd give her a muffin, just because she looked hungry. Always the rejects, though. Katniss didn't think she'd ever had a slice of fresh bread.

Prim was sitting on the bed next to their mother, drawing in the margins of an old pamphlet. Katniss peered over her shoulder casually, wanting to see what occupied her mind. Fairytale depictions of gifts tied with elaborate ribbon loomed back. A whimsical tree, with a lopsided star on top. Prim had Christmas on the brain. But not just any Christmas—a Capitol Christmas. One nobody here could give her.

Katniss sighed. Prim looked over her shoulder.

"Why do you sound so sad?" She asked.

"I don't." Katniss sat down. Prim scooted over to give her more room. She lay back, and her sister curled into her arms. Next to them, Mrs. Mellark slept. Katniss took a breath.

"Would you like to hear a story?"

She felt Prim's head nod against her chest.

"It's about Dad. Is that okay?"

"Sure." She perked up. "Nobody tells those."

"Well, I think I was around your age." She ran her fingers through Prim's hair. It was fine as a spiderweb. "Maybe a little younger. And so enchanted by the Capitol."

"It's pretty."

"It's all really pretty. We were in the Hob, watching the Christmas on TV, and I told Dad how I wanted to see the tree. You know, the really big one they put up?"

"You do?"

"I did." Katniss paused a moment to gather her thoughts. "I guess I still wouldn't mind seeing it."

"So what happened?"

"Um…" She blew a breath through her lips. "I guess not much. I just remember it because Dad said one day he'd take me. We'd go to the Capitol and watch the tree be put up and clap with everyone else as the lights went on."

"Do you ever…" Prim paused as her voice caught.

"Yeah?" Katniss asked after a few seconds.

"Do you ever wish he was still here?"

"All the time."

She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. Katniss followed her gaze to where a watermark was spreading. She'd have to take care of that.

"What was your favorite Christmas?" Prim asked then, forcing thoughts of their father from the room.

Katniss thought back. She'd never taken special care to store Christmas memories in her head. The day had always been much like the others, aside from the slightly more elaborate meals and maybe some candy all to herself. But she wanted so badly to give Prim something.

"I guess one year I really wanted my own bow. Dad had already made me one, but it was small, and I was getting better at hunting. I didn't think I'd get it, though. He was always working. Bows take time. He would have hard to carve them, and barter for the other materials. It just…didn't make a lot of sense."

"But you got it," Prim clarified.

"Well, no…" Katniss trailed off, thinking perhaps this might not be the right story to tell. "I didn't. But, um, I had this…doll. Kind of a doll. She had a head and arms and legs and her hair was drawn on with coal. When I woke up on Christmas she was holding a tiny bow. Kind of like the one I wanted."

"I want a doll," Prim burst out. Then she shut her mouth. "I mean, I would want one. If I was little."

Katniss smoothed her hair. "It's fine to want something sometimes, Prim. You can want a doll if you'd like to."

"There's no point," She said, painfully blunt. Katniss tried not to flinch.

"Well," She said after a moment, sitting up. "My stomach is pining for some food. Would you like some?"

"Yes." Prim scooted off the bed and went first out the door.

Katniss realized her mother had stopped snoring.

* * *

><p>Christmas morning dawned sunny and cold. The wet spot above their heads had begun to drip. An ice-cold splash of water was what woke Katniss, spreading its dampness across her forehead. She wiped her face on the quilt and sat up. She was the only one in the bed.<p>

"Prim?" She asked, slipping on her socks. When she exhaled, her breath blew fog in the air. She walked into the kitchen. It was warmer, here. Someone had started the coals.

"In here," Prim called from the area many referred to as their living room. For Katniss, it was just a place with a couple of old chairs and ancient pictures. She wandered in to find Prim sitting in one of those chairs, eating some of the toasted stale bread. It glistened as she put it in her mouth.

"Is that butter?" Katniss asked, hardly daring to believe.

"Yes," Prim said, taking another bite. She gestured to an abandoned plate, which lay on their old coffee table. "That's yours."

Katniss picked it up and tore of a small bit, chewing it slowly. It was butter. "How did you get this?"

"Mama did," Prim said simply. Katniss noticed the bundle in her arms.

"What's that?" She asked, stepping closer. Prim held it up. It was crude, quickly sewn—a cloth face and arms, probably stuffed with dried leaves. A wobbly, coal-drawn mouth.

It was a doll.

"Oh, wow," Katniss said, sitting in the other chair. She ate the rest of her bread and watched wordlessly as Prim "shared" hers with the doll. Finally, she cleared her throat.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Mama said Santa," Prim murmured. "He comes for the Capitol kids. I just didn't know he'd come for me."

"Aw, Prim." Katniss stood up, leaning forward to touch the doll. "Of course he does." It was safe to say those words now, now that their mother had finally come through for the first time in over a year. Then she realized something. "Where's Mom?"

"Out on the roof," Prim replied. "Fixing something."

Katniss wandered outside a moment later, wrapped in a quilt. Her mother was up on the roof, in fact, wearing one of their father's old coats. She was pushing something into what Katniss guessed to be the spot above the bed.

"Merry Christmas," She called out. The snow had stopped falling, but District Twelve was blanketed in white. Mrs. Everdeen glanced up from her hands. She was wearing gloves that were loose on her wrists.

"Merry Christmas," She returned simply, and went back to her work.

Katniss watched her for a few minutes, afraid to ask why. If she asked why, her mother might curl into her old shell. The why might never let her come out again.

She settled for an outstretched hand to help her down the ladder leaned against the house.

"You should have woke me," Katniss said, as she mother started for the front door.

"No," She said, shoving her hands in the pockets of the jacket. "You looked peaceful."

"Prim's gift is…" She thought of the right word. "Thoughtful."

"I suppose." They stepped inside and stomped off their boots. In the next room, Prim sang a cheerful song. Katniss restocked the fire while her mother busied herself getting out of the outdoor clothes.

"Here," She said at last, coming up behind her daughter. She held something in her fist. Katniss accepted it.

Her father's stone gleamed back up at her.

"What—" She started, then stopped as her mother's eyes silenced her. They were filled with tears.

"I was at the Hob this morning to get putty for the roof. Greyson was selling it."

Katniss jerked her chin up. "I don't regret doing it. I had to feed Prim."

"I know. I'm not angry." She smiled a wavery smile. "Anyway, I—I got it back. Merry Christmas."

Katniss tucked the stone into her pocket. She felt an overwhelming relief settle in her bones. And then a kind of protest, because how dare her mother pick today of all days to be well again. Grasping at the tiniest shred of glory.

"You too," She whispered, and she left it at that.


End file.
